


Omega Doorstop

by lori (zakhad)



Series: Captain and Counselor [28]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-22
Updated: 2009-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-05 00:31:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/lori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deanna isn't more than two minutes in total control of the ship before it just up and dies on her. To make matters worse, it turns out to be a feature, not a bug. Meanwhile, the captain heads off to speak at a conference and has his usual luck - and Natalia's is even worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Omega Doorstop

\-------------------

 

Deanna smiled and sat back in her chair.

Her chair, for the next four days, anyway. Oh, she enjoyed her position as first officer, she found great satisfaction in being an officer aboard the *Enterprise* with Captain Picard in command, but. . . .

Her chair. Her ship. A Sovereign-class vessel, literally at her beck and call. All her career she'd been an onlooker, counselor, active only in a supportive role; now Counselor Davidson sat at her left hand, in that old spot she'd occupied so many years, and Ward sat on her right, checking over the daily status reports.

Yes, it was only another boring interstellar oddity -- an anomalous reading on the long range sensors of a starbase to investigate.

But until the captain returned from Telix Ten. . . .

Abruptly, she thought of her father in his uniform. She knew his service record by heart. The accident that had destroyed the _Hebrides_ in a remote sector had cut his career too short. She wished he were still alive for a lot of reasons, but more so now because he would understand this feeling she had -- telling her mother about it would net her a few cursory encouraging remarks, but no real excitement or pride. Her mother valued things other than duty to Starfleet.

Her ship. The flagship, no less. Daddy would be proud of his little girl.

And then Jean-Luc, as he left their quarters. . . he hadn't looked back at her, because it was the only way he could manage to leave without too much emotional turmoil, but he'd given her one last nudge -- 'the ship is yours, Commander. See you in a few days.' Implying that, regardless of what emergencies or unexpected crises occurred, he had faith that she'd meet him at the rendezvous point with self and ship intact after the conference. Captain Picard had just dropped the ship in her lap without hesitation and left. The same way he'd handed it to Will Riker, Data, Geordi, even Beverly -- but never her before, not like this. The counselor had always been too far down on the chain of command. The only time she'd ever found herself in command as counselor had been that catastrophic collision with a space string, when she'd butted heads with Ensign Ro over what to do.

There would be no repeat of that raging panic she'd felt then. She was, after all, the first officer now. Trained by the best Starfleet had to offer and capable of handling any emergency -- Commander Troi was in charge.

For once, she denied the sudden craving that hit her. Maybe after she finished her private gloating session she'd indulge her urge to consume more lekarra. Yves could just get an early lesson in delayed gratification. Mommy was busy being a commanding officer -- a pickle jar on her lap would ruin the moment.

\-------------------------------

Natalia sighed at the boring normalcy of the helm of the _Challenger_ \-- the class seven shuttle was a fun little thing to fly, but she wished she could take her through some acrobatic maneuvers or something. Drawing a straight line from point A to point B at warp two wasn't too exciting.

Then again, helm never was the most exciting position. She glanced at the rest of the readouts -- long range sensors, check; engine performance, check; deflectors, check; automatic warning system engaged, check; course laid in and correct, check. Another verification across the boards, and she went back to the passenger compartment.

Captain Picard sat on one of the benches along the aft side, reading. He glanced up at her and smiled. "That bored already?"

She sank into the chair at the head of the table. "Only an hour out, two more to go. What kind of conference is it?"

"The tedious kind. Diplomats talking about how to be diplomatic. I'm supposed to speak tomorrow afternoon at twenty-two hundred."

Natalia draped herself over the end of the table and rested her chin on her forearm. "Can anyone come to this thing, or is it by invite only?"

One eyebrow went up. He closed the book and set it aside, folding his hands in his lap. "You would subject yourself to such torture voluntarily?"

"Captains are supposed to be good at diplomacy. Since I'm supposed to learn all about it someday, might as well start." She noticed a deck of cards sitting on the table, near a small pile of books. Dragging it over with her fingertips, she slipped the band off and shuffled a few times.

The captain got up and came to sit on her right, putting his book on the top of the stack. He watched her shuffle expectantly. When she stopped and tamped the cards straight, he met her eyes. "What's the name of the game?"

"Poker?"

"Queens leading."

She grinned and dealt the cards. "Are we playing points or stakes?"

"You win, I'll get you into the conference. I win, you buy me dinner."

Natalia chewed her lip and tapped the top of her hand. "Guess I could do that. As long as you don't let it get out I'm buying dinner for you -- I can just see what a hash the rumor mill on the ship would make of that." She picked up her cards. "Oh, crap in a hat -- so much for last month's wages."

"The game isn't over until it's over, Lieutenant."

She grinned again and they fell into a companionable silence, discarding and taking more cards. As she watched him playing the full house that trounced her pitiful two of a kind, she thought again of the message she'd just gotten from her mother yesterday and the comment Mom had made about Dad, and how proud he'd be of her for the quicker-than-normal promotion to lieutenant. Mom may not approve of Starfleet as a career for her daughter, but she understood what it took to get promoted and she knew Captain Picard wouldn't just tack a pip on her collar at a whim.

Dad would've been just as proud of her for making friends with the captain as he would have about the promotion. He'd told her once that he hoped she would grow out of the loner phase she'd been in, and that once she did, he wanted her to watch who she spent her time with. He'd been so careful to explain assumptions and how the crowd she ran with would influence other people's perception of what kind of person she was.

The captain shuffled this time, handling the cards with a practiced hand. Leaving his own hand face down, he went to the back of the compartment and returned with two cups of tea. Natalia thanked him quietly and sipped. Not Earl Grey this time. Something the color of apple juice, but strong and tangy, and the smell was familiar -- Commander Troi had drunk this a number of times back when she was counseling Natalia. This had to be something Betazoid.

The captain won again, but Natalia didn't care. Buying a friend dinner wasn't an entirely undesirable thing, and she felt she owed him -- he'd given her advice and helped her through a rough spot once. This would probably be the only chance she'd have to do something like that without risking the misunderstandings of her crewmates. And it would be living out what her father would have enjoyed -- he'd admired Captain Picard greatly and he would've liked him a lot, as a CO or as a friend.

"What are you grinning about?"

She looked up from her hand. "Sir?"

"You're grinning like Kenny does when he knows where Malia hid the candy."

"I was just thinking about something Mom said in her last message."

He stared at her a moment as if contemplating whether or not he wanted to know, and dropped his gaze to his cards. They finished the hand -- he won again. Natalia redoubled her efforts in the hopes of gaining ground, but it would probably be hopeless. She didn't usually play poker and he obviously had experience with it.

At least he wasn't the type to gloat, she reflected, raising her cup to her lips. And at least he'd made the stakes such that losing was the better deal. Sitting through a conference just to hear his speech didn't sound as appealing as informal conversation over good food.

\-------------------------

"Preliminary long range scans seem to indicate -- "

Abruptly, the ship dropped out of warp, the bridge shuddering perceptibly as it did so. The stars on the viewscreen went still.

It stunned them all for a few moments -- what just happened? said the look on Ensign Torias' face as he turned from the helm. "Sir, we just fired thrusters. We're at a full stop. I didn't do anything, it just happened!"

"I can see that. You were saying, Mr. Mendez?"

Mendez checked, and re-checked, his ops panel. "I was about to say long range scans show what seemed to be a nebula but before I could get anything more detailed than that, the board went blank -- there's a symbol here and nothing else. It's not responding to anything."

Deanna looked around the bridge. The same symbol showed on every screen. "deLio, is your station down too?"

"Aye, sir," came the calm response.

"Computer, explain this symbol," Ward said, punching at his console on the arm of his chair. Frustrated, he jabbed repeatedly, making it sound off with the irritating non-op noises of a stubborn computer.

"Ward, stop that. Computer?" Deanna sighed and stood up. "Computer! Bridge to engineering!"

"LaForge here," came Geordi's voice -- thank goodness. "I know what you're going to ask, but all I can tell you is the computer stopped us colder'n a class L planetoid. A controlled shutdown of the warp engines. None of the controls are responding, and my command codes are locked out. And the Greek letter omega is showing up on all the monitors."

"That's what we're showing here, too. Life support seems to be operational? What about lifts and other internal systems?" Deanna looked at the symbol on the main viewer -- a Greek letter. That would be something Jean-Luc would identify right away. Greek was a Terran language, wasn't it?

"So far as I can tell, all functioning -- just had someone come in off a lift."

"Let's find out what systems function and which don't -- and see if you can find out what's happened to lock down the computer." Deanna sat down again and tried to access the computer, only to get more irritating non-op complaining from the computer.

"I'll get right on it. I take it your command codes aren't getting far?"

"Just tried keying them in, since it doesn't seem to respond to voice commands. Double time, Commander. We need to regain control. Bridge out."

Deanna looked around at the expectant faces of her bridge crew. Sighing, she leaned, retrieved her jar of lekarra from under the chair, and munched one down. She looked back at Ward, mirrored his raised eyebrow, and held out the jar.

"No, thanks." He punched at the console on the first officer's chair again. "Computer glitches."

"But it doesn't behave like a glitch." Deanna tapped the small display on the arm of her chair. "This symbol means something. Some sort of subroutine perhaps. But why?"

"Two options," Mendez said, turning his chair around. "Sabotage or deliberate programming. If it was sabotage, why would it stop us dead in space and do nothing?"

"Sensors are completely inoperable," deLio reported. "So are tactical functions. Propulsion systems are not functioning. A saboteur may wish to disable then tow the ship using another vessel. We are unable to defend ourselves or flee."

"And we wouldn't know we were being towed," Torias exclaimed, sounding nervous. "Without sensors -- "

"Ensign, calm down," Deanna said smoothly. She could sense the tension this discussion was causing -- like sharp claws pricking her from all around. "No leaping to conclusions until we know more."

"Shouldn't we be at red alert?" Ward asked.

"Yellow alert," Deanna said. "No apparent danger yet. Just a suspicious lockout." What an understatement! Without the computer they were on borrowed time. The ship depended too heavily on it -- the idea that somehow all the safeguards and security measures Starfleet had taken to maintain computer functionality had been circumvented didn't sit well.

"LaForge to bridge -- Commander, it seems all internal systems function normally enough. All sensors, tactical, external communications, and propulsion systems are disabled. I've got people scrambling to triple-check it, but the computer's blocked us out solid."

She could have a shipload of panicked crew if she wasn't careful. And panic didn't solve the problem, it created new ones. So far as she could recall, there wasn't a history of similar difficulties -- nothing was mentioned in any of the Academy materials she'd reviewed on her way to command, anyway. There'd been that virus that had taken the _Yamato _and nearly destroyed the _Enterprise,_ but that had obviously been a foreign subroutine, and not at all like this sudden appearance of a Terran symbol and the complete lockout of some, but not all, systems. Such selectiveness meant deliberate programming. The question was, to what end?

Deanna sighed. "Transporters? Shuttle bays?"

"I'll have them checked. But we're kinda out in the middle of nowhere -- "

"Geordi, do you think this is some intentional subroutine native to our systems, or is this a saboteur at work? How could this have been sabotage? And if it isn't, what purpose do you think this serves, and what significance does a Greek letter have? Senior staff meeting in twenty minutes -- bring your theories and a complete rundown of all ship's systems and their operability. Let me know if you make any progress before then. Bridge out." Deanna tossed another pickle in her mouth. "Mr. Carlisle, I think we should assign our cadets to viewports on all sides of the ship. It may be an exercise in futility but it would be nice to know if someone does show up to tow us off."

Ward grinned at that. "Good idea." He turned at once to his console and frowned. "I'll just go in the briefing room and start paging people. No sense in disrupting the bridge with it."

After he'd gone, Deanna rubbed her belly and sighed. Yves was the calmest person on the bridge at the moment, but only because he barely registered as a presence at five months along. Even Ward's chipper demeanor was a mask for the trepidation he felt. A ship without computer control, full of anxious crew --

Klingon curses came to mind. Her first real chance at command and the flagship of the Federation turned into a gigantic floating habitat in space. Without the computer they were stopped deader than a doorstop.

She_ would_ find a way to regain control of the ship. Even if she had to get out and push the damn thing to a starbase.

\--------------------------

Natalia stared at the roughly-spherical jumble of rods. "If I hadn't lost just about every hand, I'd want to go back to poker."

"Want some help?"

"No thanks -- sir. I'll get this. Or give myself a brain hemorrhage trying." She slid the rod she held into place. The construct changed shape, into. . . less of a shape. Now it looked like the war of the toothpick people, fought and lost. "Breach of the cerebellum in progress. So much for that game. Want to try something more my speed, like maybe tic-tac-toe?"

The captain leaned back, arms crossed, and shook his head. He looked tired, she realized. "No, thank you."

"Are you all right?"

"A little tired. Let's see how we're doing." He went forward and settled in the chair on the left in the cabin, and she followed and dropped into the other seat. While he went through the checks, the light of the panels cast yellow and green light on his face.

"Sir. . . are you sure you're all right?"

He didn't respond, unless running fingertips across controls could be counted. His face seemed less alive than usual -- less happy. Almost pained, from the lines around his eyes. Missing Deanna. She'd seen the symptoms before. When he spoke, it wasn't to answer her question, which with him was an answer in itself.

"You sure you want to go to this conference?"

"I -- but I lost the game."

His smiling eyes were back, briefly. "Perhaps. But I hadn't intended to make you buy me dinner, either. I have some things to do aside from the speech-making."

"I'd like to go -- not like I'm that imaginative about leave or anything."

"You don't have to be imaginative. Telix has some distractions, if you're interested in exobiology and geology. There's a tour of the Senzi Preserve leaving every morning."

"Maybe day after tomorrow."

He met her gaze across the cabin. Intensely -- Natalia wanted to squirm in her chair, but kept her body relaxed just as she'd practiced. Looking again at the stars, he sighed. "I told you once that I'd tell you about my daughter. I don't think I have, yet."

"No, sir. You haven't."

He drummed his fingers on the arm of the seat. "It's been. . . a number of years. While we were aboard the previous _Enterprise_, the 1701-D, we came across a probe, which turned out to be from a world called Kataan. When we scanned it, the probe sent a focused beam that caught me and made me live the life of a man called Kamin."

"It took you off the ship?"

He sniffed at that. "No. It created a world in my imagination. I lived a lifetime, or half of one, in twenty-five minutes. It was their way of passing on the knowledge of their civilization. Kataan's star went nova a thousand years prior. They knew enough to realize it was happening and launch a probe, but not enough to leave the planet themselves. They were wonderful people. Artistic, intelligent and peaceful. The probe did nothing to erase my memory of the life I had before. . . it took years to settle into the reality they created for me. They had given me a wife. You could say. . . I imagined a family for myself. I had never imagined I could have one of my own -- it was truly a life-changing experience. And it happened in the course of half an hour on the bridge of my ship, while my crew worked to disconnect me from the beam. Eventually it did release me on its own, after the probe revealed to me its true purpose. The flute I play was all that remained, after the simulation was over. We found it in the casing of the probe."

Natalia closed her mouth when she realized her tongue was actually drying out. "So Meribor isn't around because she wasn't. . . oh."

He smiled, seeming to drift a moment into reminiscing. He looked up at her with a jerk and sighed. "It was real to me. That was the point of it, that the reality of the Kataan be given to preserve their memory. You have her eyes -- Meribor had a sweet seriousness about her, and unlike Batai she seemed more interested in the same things I pursued. Deanna told me at the time that disassociating myself from those memories, however fictional they may have been, may serve the starship captain but would defeat the purpose of the probe. So I remember them fondly, albeit privately, and made detailed personal logs."

In search of unobtrusive questions, Natalia found herself at a loss and fumbling for words. She checked a panel without really seeing it. "I guess that means the commander is your second wife, in a way," she commented, then immediately wanted to bury her head in the console in front of her for saying it.

"In a way." The reply startled her into looking at him. Rather than being irritated, he seemed thoughtful. "You have to realize, though, that I didn't choose to have a wife on Kataan. She was simply there. Two wives, one wedding. Only in Starfleet. You see what adventures are in store for you out here?"

"I'm not getting married. No matter what adventures in Starfleet do to me."

The captain raised his head, gazed at her with laughter in his eyes, a wry twist to his mouth. "That sounds very familiar. Be careful about what you insist, Natalia, it often turns out quite the opposite. Hope you invite me to the wedding."

Might as well go along with it. "Tell you what -- you can perform the ceremony."

"You think I'll have a ship that long?"

"Okay, Commander Troi can perform it, and you can give away the bride." She put a hand to her mouth. "Oh -- I just meant -- "

"I know what you meant, and that's perfectly all right, Natalia. As long as you remember you still have to quake in your boots in the meantime." He turned away to look at the stars again. "And if I'm still around and you still want me to, I'd be honored."

Natalia managed to let a few minutes pass before she gave in to the urge to jump up. She raced for the head, locked herself in the tiny compartment and leaned against the door to catch her breath.

What had she just done? Reminding him of his non-existent daughter was bad enough, now she'd capitalized on it and roped him into agreeing to doing something like that! Not that she'd ever really get married. He had to be kidding. She had to be kidding. _Someone_ was kidding, the fates, God, whoever or whatever stuck her in the unlikely position she was in -- so what if her uncle Walker had been Picard's friend? So what if her mother knew him in passing? What the heck was she on a shuttle with Captain Picard for in the first place?

To pilot it. Except he could fly rings around her any day. He'd been a helmsman in the past. Heck, he'd been everywhere, done everything -- why was he even bothering with some naive girl with an ambition to be a captain? Why'd he even suggest they were friends when things were so lopsided?

After she got her composure back from the great beyond it had escaped into, locked away the screaming voice of panic in the back of her brain, and washed her face, she went out and found him in the compartment again, staring a new kaltoh game. She went past him to the shuttle controls, back to the safe monotony of readouts and obsessive double-checking of a bored officer of the watch.

\--------------------------

"The computer appears to be functioning normally." Geordi paced around the briefing room table slowly. "I even went down to physically inspect the primary and secondary cores -- across the board, the ship appears to be suffering no abnormality of programming. All the internal systems function -- replicators, holodecks, life support, even internal sensors. Sickbay reports normal across the board. The problem is, the computer may function and make automated responses, and even let us key in requests in the replicators, but it won't let us retrieve data. The medical staff can use the instruments in sickbay but the minute we try to access anything but medical information, the omega symbol appears. We tested the transporter and the shuttle bays as requested -- they're locked down too. The bay doors won't open."

"What about the shuttles themselves?" Deanna asked. "Do the computers in the shuttles show the same problem?"

Geordi stopped and looked at the screen on the wall behind him, as if the horseshoe symbol on it would reveal any new information. "While in the bays, all the shuttles are linked to the main computer. Same problem. And the escape pods are all locked in tight, too, so no chance there. Someone wants to be certain no one gets off this vessel until the lockout is over."

Deanna dipped into her nearly-empty jar for another pickle. She gazed at Counselor Davidson, who sat with folded hands across the table, looking sober. He'd been fielding crew questions for her and had a harried look about him. There were a _lot_ of questions, he'd said, but most people were adequately pacified by a simple reassurance that the problem was being investigated. That would change soon.

"Geordi, you said all internal systems were working. External communications are locked out. If we could get a shuttle to operate independently of our systems, getting someone away from the ship would allow them to contact Starfleet and query them as to what this lockout is and how to counteract it. And, if it isn't a native subroutine, we can have them send help."

"That's if we can get a shuttle out of the ship at all," Ward said.

"True." Deanna picked at her teeth with a nail. "Mr. Mendez, you were getting readings on a nebula when we were locked down. Was there anything else showing up on the sensors before the computer blocked you out?"

"No, sir. Not a thing. All ship's systems were operating normally, too. Sensors were fine -- we'd just run a level four diagnostic at the beginning of the shift, as always, and we were green across the board."

"deLio?"

The L'norim security chief shook his head -- a human gesture he'd adopted, that made his jowls wiggle. "Per the readings we took prior to the lockdown, there are no ships in the area, and no apparent threats. Nothing that would indicate external influence on the ship. Security sweeps have found no sign of physical tampering with ship's systems. We were unable to access reports of computer usage by the crew."

"No reports of any visual sightings of anything?" She looked at Ward, whose usual cherub-cheeked smiling had been replaced by a weary expression.

"Not a thing, except a lot of stars. Astrometrics is screaming about the sudden cessation of data, and there's a growing concern among the crew -- though I'm sure you know about that already."

"Actually, I wouldn't. I've taken a low dose of an inhibitor so I won't be hampered by the effects of the emotions of others, and though it's not something I can do long-term, it may help me find an end to this crisis sooner if I can make clear-headed decisions." Deanna drummed her fingers and looked at her now-empty jar. Unbidden, Ward took the jar to the replicator and returned with a full one. "Thank you. So -- we began receiving readings of a nebula and the ship stopped. Is there any possible connection between something we could sense in a nebula and the omega symbol we see on every view screen down to the consoles in the ship's schoolroom?"

Geordi sat down and pondered it for a few moments. "If we go on the assumption that this isn't sabotage, that it's a subroutine native to the system -- there has to be some way of canceling the lockout. Since you're the first officer and you don't know anything about it, I'd have to guess the captain would know how. And if it's a captain's-eyes-only situation, Starfleet security is at stake. It can't be an actively-hostile threat, like a battleship. Starfleet wouldn't make us sitting ducks if it were a mobile threat. So that leaves us with some sort of natural phenomena. . . but it still doesn't make sense to disable us this way."

"Without the computer's help, I resorted to asking around. As it turns out, the omega is the last letter of the Greek alphabet." Ward glanced at the wall monitor. "There's a phrase of Terran origin -- alpha and omega, beginning and the end. It implies completion."

"We begin to detect something on long range sensors and the computer locks us out completely. If Geordi is right and it's a matter of security, captain's eyes only, and the omega is the end -- it's deadly serious business and we need control of our ship back. And we need the captain." Deanna fished a pickle out of her jar. "Geordi, work on the shuttle option. Continue working on the computer -- Ensign Torias, is something wrong?"

Deanna stared at the visibly-disturbed helmsman impatiently. He took too long to answer. His wide grey eyes lit on her at last. "I don't understand how you can be so unconcerned by this. It's got to be sabotage! What else could it be? And we're sitting here dead in space -- "

"Ensign, we have been here for an hour. The longer we are here, the more likely it is that we'll find a way to defeat the lockout -- from a saboteur's point of view, striking sooner would be better. If we were sabotaged and the instigator were aboard, he or she would have made a move in those initial moments of confusion." Deanna fixed her best commanding officer's stern glare on him. "There is no logical purpose for waiting. If they wanted us, they could have us -- where are they? If they could do this to the computer, why not also program it to lock out life support and force us to abandon ship so they didn't have to deal with the crew? Sabotage makes no sense. No one who could do this to our vessel would do such a poor job of taking over the ship. And why would they cut off all avenues of escape, if it were someone aboard?"

Torias slumped in his chair. "Sorry, sir."

She waved a lekarra at Geordi. "Let's get going, Commander. First priority, get around the lockout -- second priority, get us a way of communicating with Starfleet or our captain. I'll be in the ready room. Dismissed."

Deanna left the briefing room and crossed the bridge, noting that most of the staff went back to their posts but Geordi followed her. She stopped at the ready room door and looked at him.

"A moment of your time, sir?" He gestured at the door.

She wished she hadn't felt obligated to use the inhibitor for Yves' sake; it would have been nice to know what went on behind that polite demeanor. Leading the way in, she went to the desk and sat behind it. Geordi came to stand at parade rest in front of it.

"Deanna, are you all right?" He sounded so carefully polite about it.

"Yes, I'm fine." She smiled wanly. "I was about to take a nap. I'm not much use when it comes to computer lockouts, I'm afraid. Commander Dunsel of the Federation starship Doorstop, at your service. At least I can still do my duty by the captain's son if nothing else."

Geordi grinned. "Dunsel, my optical implants. I think you handled Torias with just the right amount of firmness, without sounding like you were coming down too hard. I was going to question why we weren't pursuing the sabotage angle more actively but it sounds like you've pretty much ruled that out."

"Not completely, but it seems odd to me that the saboteur would let us sit here like this." She glanced out at the stars through the viewport at her left. "I almost wish a demented Ferengi would show up so there'd be some tangible reason for this. Let me know when you make any progress, Geordi. I'd really like to have the ship working again before I hand it back to the captain."

"Yeah, I'd feel a little embarrassed about it, too, if I were you."

Deanna glared at him. "Why?"

"Oh. . . I'd better go -- uh, may I -- "

"Dismissed," she snapped. As he neared the door, she added, "And thanks, Geordi, for your concern. Just get us access to our computer soon?"

"Sure." He smiled over his shoulder at her and left.

Deanna went to the sofa and curled up on it. As she relaxed, the ache began -- her hajira was missing. There were times when being married to one's captain had very definite drawbacks. On the one hand, she wanted to prove herself to him; on the other, she wanted emotional support. She'd give up chocolate for a week for a hug from him right then.

But, she'd chosen the cross she hung upon. She'd get through this. No compromises. She set aside her wishing for a hug and refocused on finding a solution to this situation their ship was in.

"Hope you're enjoying the conference, Jean-Fish," she muttered. "You could've at least told me there was a possibility of your ship stalling out in the middle of nowhere."

~#~#~#~#~

Natalia left the hotel to wander the streets. Local time in Blondell City was out of sync with ship's time -- it was afternoon on this part of Telix, and the days were longer here. The pale green sky had two faint moons hovering low on the horizon. This was yet another of the many human colonies, so all the buildings looked depressingly familiar. Nothing exotic about this locale.

Not many Starfleet officers about, either, she noticed. She wished she'd worn civvies. The trip was such a short one that she'd only brought two outfits and a fresh uniform, and this was only the first day.

At the end of the street she turned left and wandered down what seemed to be a block of stores. A scuffle in an alley on her right got her attention, and her heart seized in her throat. In the narrow, heavily-shadowed alley, a couple of humanoids stood over a third. Worse, as one stepped aside, she saw a familiar bald head -- someone had her captain!

She tapped her communicator. "Security. . . ."

"Starfleet security, Telix base. Who is this?"

Good -- a calm professional female voice to which she could respond in kind. "This is Lieutenant Greenman of the _Enterprise_ \-- my commanding officer has been assaulted by two humanoids, in an alley along. . . sorry, don't know what street I'm on. I request security and medical backup."

"We have a fix on your position. Backup should arrive momentarily."

Even as the reassurance was spoken, Natalia ran across the street and down the alley as one of the humanoids raised something over his head. "Hey!"

It startled the creature -- it was something between a pig and a bear, with a snout and irregular tufts of black fur. Solid yellow eyes stared at her, and she realized the thing it held was a padd. It had been looking at it, holding it up for light. She halted out of reach, panting, standing with arms out at the ready.

The two creatures stood back from her fallen captain, and the one dropped the padd on Picard's chest. "Dead," the thing rumbled. "Found him like this."

Running footsteps behind her, and suddenly security personnel were there, holding phasers. "What's going on?" the burly man on her left exclaimed.

Both creatures stood further back and held out their hands. Natalia glanced at the lieutenant. "They say he was dead when they found him." Then it registered -- she raced the last few steps and hit her knees at his side, feeling for a pulse at his throat.

The scruffy aliens were right -- no pulse. She waited, unable to breath, for the heartbeat to start under her fingertips -- this was _not_ happening. Captain Picard could _not_ die in an alley on a Federation colony. Then she realized he was warm, and that as she stared at his face, searching for signs of life, his nostril hairs stirred -- she brought her other hand to his mouth, holding it over nostrils and lips, and felt warm air at regular intervals.

"He's not dead," she said to no one in particular as a lieutenant in medical blue dropped to one knee next to her and scanned with a tricorder.

"No, he's not -- artificial heart. He's not going to have a pulse. Move aside, please, and let me work."

Natalia got up and watched the two med techs work their wonders -- she leaned against the wall and tried not to hyperventilate. Tried to shake herself out of the stupor she'd fallen into. Allowing herself to be this affected by the death, real or imagined, of a fellow officer wasn't correct procedure. She was on security rotation -- even though she wasn't along as security officially, she should be questioning the suspects. But the two hairy beasts were talking to the four officers from the base. The lieutenant-commander in charge came over.

"What's wrong with him?"

The lieutenant with the medical tricorder -- an auburn-haired woman -- looked up. Her companion, a Bajoran woman, distracted her momentarily by pressing a hypo against the captain's neck, then she said, "One of those home-made neural paralyzers. Looks like a shock to the base of the neck. They took his comm badge -- stupid. Like those things work for anyone but their owner and we can't locate him with it. Probably some of those small time thugs from the outskirts of town, after the metal it was made of. A quick scan and we'll have him."

"The Raibi claim they startled a human bending over him. His pips are missing, too, but looks like the guy dropped the padd. They said they found it a little further down the alley. We got a description, the guy has a Starfleet comm badge, we'll find him." The officer looked at Natalia. "You didn't attack them, even though you thought they were the perpetrators."

"They didn't threaten me. When I got close enough, I saw they weren't armed and didn't seem to be trying to hurt him."

The security officer smiled. "I'm Lieutenant-Commander Tchaikolovsky, by the way. We'll go after the perp. Want to come along?" He jerked his head after the other three, who were already jogging off. The Raibi were walking the same direction, apparently going their own way.

"Lieutenant Greenman, of the_ Enterprise_. Thanks, but I think I should stay with Captain Picard. The first officer will have my hide if I let anything else happen to him. I'd like a full report, though. We're staying over at the Grand."

"We'll get that report for you." He glanced down at the captain, who was coming around. The med techs helped their patient to his feet; predictably, he shook them off the instant he was upright and took in his surroundings with quick glances.

"What just happened?" he exclaimed sharply.

"You don't remember?" Tchaikolovsky introduced himself; the captain didn't shake his hand, which he withdrew, uncertain. "Uh, Captain, you were apparently a victim of a mugging. It happens every so often -- they steal tricorders and other equipment, and make neural paralyzers. A shot to the back of the neck will drop a good-sized man without killing him. Easier to do rehab for petty theft than murder." He handed over the padd. "Guy dropped this. Your lieutenant here alerted us you were in trouble. Did you see anyone?"

"No. One minute I was walking down the street, the next I woke to find all of you here." The captain stared at Natalia. "I thought you were going shopping or something."

"I was, until you got mugged, sir. You owe me more leave for ruining my afternoon this way."

"Like hell," he growled. He turned to leave but one of the techs grabbed his arm.

"Captain, you should come back to the medical center with us. It's procedure." The lieutenant's conciliatory smile had little effect on his scowl. "We should do a more thorough check, especially since a neural paralyzer was used. Devices that affect the nervous system could damage the interface between your artificial heart and -- "

"Yes, I understand. I'll stop in if there are any problems -- "

"Now, sir," Natalia said. "Or I'll tell your first officer."

The two lieutenants and the captain stared at her, the former in surprise, the latter in disgruntlement. He almost said something angry -- but sighed, with sagging shoulders. "I should have brought one of the ensigns instead. Maybe a cadet. Someone I could actually intimidate."

"Well, I can't pull rank -- and I'd really rather not get yelled at for letting you get away with self-neglect. You can demote me, but you won't. Principles, y'know. I'm not so sure about _her_. I haven't got my butt chewed by her yet, I don't intend to start now."

"Shut up," he said, entirely without venom, turning to the med tech on his left. "Where's the medical center?"

Natalia smiled and started after her captain, hesitating when she noticed Tchaikolovsky staring at her. She stared back a moment, raising an eyebrow. He caught himself and turned to follow his officers, and she jogged to catch up to Captain Picard.

\--------------------------

Deanna woke and discovered that it was later than she expected. Alpha shift ended ten minutes ago. Sitting up, she put a hand to her stomach when it growled. She rose, straightening her uniform, the throbbing of her temples pounding in time with the ache in her chest. Too much. She needed to do something about her hunger and the pain and tension.

She retrieved a hypo from the back of the ready room where she'd stashed it near the replicator, then hesitated and lowered the dosage as far as she could before injecting herself. Then she ordered a sandwich, ate most of it as quickly as she could, and polished off the rest on the way to the door.

The beta shift looked bored. Nowhere to go, no computer control -- only helm and ops were present, and the lieutenant at ops seemed to be talking to someone over the comm system, trying various controls on the board. In the lift, she contacted deLio and confirmed that he and his subordinates in security were still running periodic sweeps through the ship. At least it kept some of the crew busy. And, with a security presence, it would make nervous crew a little less likely to get themselves into too much trouble, perhaps reassure some that steps were being taken. Until they knew with certainty exactly what was going on with the computer, yellow alert would be maintained and no statements made.

The inhibitor hadn't quite taken affect yet. She could sense the ongoing tension around her, and weariness, and some sparks of fear. She tapped her comm badge again as she walked down a corridor on deck ten, intending to put in an appearance where she sensed the most fear. "Troi to LaForge."

"LaForge here. I was about to contact you, Commander." A pause. "Everything all right?"

"I'm fine -- how is the ship?"

"Same as before, but I think we have actual progress to report. It's part of our programming that's doing this. Otherwise we'd be able find a way to get around it. No saboteur could make it such a part of the system."

Deanna waited, but nothing else was forthcoming. "That's _all_? That's progress?"

"Well, we ruled out sabotage."

"Commander, that isn't good enough. We've been here for hours now. How about getting a shuttle out?"

Geordi cleared his throat. "I'm in the main bay right now, going over the possibilities. Can't promise much -- we've been at this since the briefing."

"I'll be there shortly. Troi out."

She made a circuit of half the deck, passing through corridors where lieutenants, ensigns and cadets milled around -- with the computer not allowing any access to the library, they were unable to study or read for pleasure. One of the four-person security teams crossed paths with her at one point. Most personnel went silent as she approached, conversation resuming as she passed out of earshot -- but she could sense what she needed to know. Confusion, curiosity, cynicism. Fear. Doubt. In her heightened sensitivity, she could even delineate individuals' feelings after she rounded a corner.

Meditating in the lift helped stave off the worst of it. Things weren't completely coming apart with the crew -- they had more discipline than that. The crisis was five hours old and counting, however, and they would have to find a solution soon.

The constant onslaught of negative emotion around her beat at her shielding ability, making it impossible to completely recover. The flare of anger she felt then was genuinely hers, at Jean-Luc -- even if this was a need-to-know-basis-only high security difficulty she faced, it _really_ would have been good to know it might happen. They could have wasted less time and nervous energy contemplating sabotage. How did he expect a first officer to maintain control and composure under these circumstances?

It occurred to her that some of the fear and doubt around her could be attributable to uncertainty over her ability to command -- always before, the captain had been there to back her up, or to make the tough decisions in a crisis. And did the lack of solutions to the problem have something to do with it as well? This was her first solo effort. Geordi had known her for years as a counselor and knew she'd had difficulty in command situations; perhaps there was some subconscious part of him that couldn't yet see her as a CO? Maybe the motivation wasn't quite all there? The human psyche could be so complex. Then again, she might be seeking excuses -- was she asking too much or supposing possibilities where there were none?

They were battling their own computer. They faced something that was obviously such a high security risk that Starfleet's programmers had gone the extra light year to make it impossible to circumvent this subroutine. Geordi may be good, but even he had to have his limits. Not to mention the captain and whatever codes would unlock the computer would be back in a few days, and thus the engineer lacked real motivation to do the usual, excel under pressure. He probably assumed that Starfleet would never leave them completely defenseless -- if there were a threat, another ship approaching, it was possible the computer itself would assess the threat and give them control as needed to deal with it.

Assumptions in a vacuum, all of it -- what the program would do, what Geordi thought, what the crew thought. Second-guessing everything got her nowhere. She had to regain control of her ship -- even if the only motivation she had was to preserve the respect her crew had for her. Her effectiveness as a first officer depended on it. She couldn't let that suffer. Counselor Troi might have waited this out; Commander Troi couldn't sit back and let things happen around her. Her captain had faith in her. She couldn't let him down.

Suddenly she imagined she was on a stage, performing for all of Starfleet Command. The worst of it was that in her imagined theater, her father and her husband sat in the front row, looking up at her expectantly. The crew of the _Enterprise _filled the balconies. And at the back exit, her mother stood waving for her to leave with her.

Shaking off the odd vision, Deanna left the lift, went the short distance down a corridor, and entered the shuttle bay to find Batris, Geordi, and a gaggle of other engineering staff next to one of the class six shuttles. All of them came to attention.

Geordi ordered most of his people back to engineering, sent Batris after something, and faced her as the younger crew disbanded. Reluctantly -- they kept glancing over their shoulders. She bit back a snappish response to that and realized there must be something in her face, frustration perhaps, and that she didn't know whether it was hers or something she sensed. Likely both. She focused on what Geordi was saying, even as her body suggested what she really needed was another jar of pickles.

\--------------------------

The longer she waited, the harder it was to sit still. Natalia forced her body to relax just enough to appear calm, yet stay straight in her chair. The waiting room was empty but for her.

A scuff of a foot, and Lieutenant-Commander Tchaikolovsky stood in the door. She managed a small polite smile and a nod. "Commander."

"Lieutenant." He held up a padd. "Here's the report. . . and these." He crossed the room and dropped the comm badge and pips in her right hand as she took the padd with her left hand. He bent nearly at a right angle to do it -- he was as tall as gangly Batris, but filled out, obviously a frequent customer in the gym. Short curly blond hair and a freckled nose, and a smile to knock a girl dead. If things were different, she'd be interested. Definitely. In fact, he reminded her of no one so much as Captain Riker. Gorgeous eyes.

"Thanks. I'll give him these when they're done." She hefted the items in her palm, wishing uniforms had pockets, then closed her hand around them and began to read the padd. When he continued to stand over her, she looked up at him. He sat in the chair next to her, apparently a little unsure of himself.

"I know you're going to want to stay til he gets out, but. . . you want to grab something to eat? He can't be much longer, it's been three hours since the alley and -- "

"Thanks, but I already have other plans."

He shifted his feet, recrossed his arms, and made an uncertain noise. "Is Picard a relative or something?"

Natalia turned her attention to the report. As calmly and nonchalantly as she could, she said, "He's my captain."

He snorted. "Yeah, you talk that way to all starship captains. What'd he bring you along for? You weren't with him as security, he could pilot a shuttle himself -- "

She put the padd on the chair next to her, put the pips and badge on it, then stood and squared her shoulders. "If you are upset because I turned you down for dinner and feel a need to express that, do it. But if you continue to make implications of impropriety on the part of my commanding officer, I suggest you pre-admit yourself to the medical center."

"Is that a threat?" he asked, rising and stepping forward -- into her personal space, and towering over her.

Natalia raised her head slightly and looked up into his eyes. "No. It isn't."

"Oh, brother." He rolled his blue eyes. "Like it's any big deal what he does with you."

"It is to his wife. She happens to be a friend of mine."

The door behind her opened. She knew from his reaction who it was -- Tchaikolovsky stiffened to attention. She turned around to face her captain, coming neatly to attention herself. "Commander Tchaikolovsky was kind enough to bring the report and your comm badge, sir," she announced. "How are you feeling?"

He measured her for a few seconds and nodded. "Fine -- as I've been telling them all along. I imagine you've not had dinner. You should go do that."

"Actually, sir, I have plans to do just that -- but I'll walk you to the hotel." Natalia picked up the padd and held out his pips and badge. "I believe these are yours?"

He put on the pips at a leisurely pace. "I presume you caught him?"

"Unfortunately, no, sir," Tchaikolovsky said officiously. "We found the badge and pips not far from where you were. Guess the perp got paranoid when interrupted. You're sure you didn't see anything?"

"Positive. Frankly, it surprises me that this sort of thing would happen so close to the Starfleet installation -- I would think with a major conference center just opened nearby and the efforts to create more of a tourist trade here, there would be more security and fewer incidents of this nature."

Tchaikolovsky shrugged uncomfortably. "I'm at a loss myself. It doesn't happen often. This is the first time since I was assigned here five months ago, I can tell you that much. We'll continue the investigation, sir."

"Thank you for returning my badge. A good evening to you." The captain strode past the larger man toward the exit. Natalia turned, and unaccountably the security officer was in her way -- she bumped into him, and Tchaikolovsky caught her shoulder to steady her. She yanked out of his grasp, glared, jogged to catch up with the captain, and fell into step behind him.

Captain Picard ignored her all the way out to the street in front of the building, then turned to look at her. "You don't have to babysit me. Go on your date, or whatever -- "

"I don't have one. I only said that because he was making lewd accusations about you." She glanced up and down the street -- the streetlamps weren't bright enough and were too far apart to be much use. This was a Federation colony. She hadn't imagined needing a phaser. Stupid. deLio's rule number three -- never make assumptions.

"Lieutenant," he said sharply. Natalia looked at him under the yellow glare of the light over the medical center entrance. "I do not need your protection, in any way. I'm quite capable of surviving on my own. I've been doing it far longer than you've been alive."

"How many times have you survived thanks to the efforts of friends and fellow officers?"

A slight flinch, and a sigh. "I'm on my guard now. I don't care what Deanna told you, I don't need babysitting -- I only agreed to this because you needed to log some hours piloting a shuttle."

"Commander Troi said nothing to me. Your safety -- "

"Natalia, I'm not helpless and I wasn't hurt badly, it was only -- "

"Then why did they keep you in there so damn long, Captain? Because it did some real damage to the artificial heart?" She stared down the street, watching silhouettes of people going around a corner.

"I find it highly irritating and unprofessional that the medical personnel saw fit to discuss that so openly -- "

"You didn't have a pulse! I thought you were dead!" Too late, she realized it came out as a shriek -- her feet moved half a dozen steps from him down the sidewalk before she got them to stop. Holding her breath, she closed her eyes and counted backward slowly from twenty, until she could let the air out of her lungs without sobbing.

She heard his footsteps. Bowing her head, she cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. I'll just go back to the hotel now. Good night, sir."

When she did get the wherewithal to look back, she saw that he was watching her go from where he stood beneath the yellow-tinged light. She didn't look back again.

The hotel wasn't far, just the next street over, and she couldn't bring herself to go upstairs yet. Being alone in the room would've given her too much solitude -- if she could be somewhere there were people, she could people-watch and keep her mind off what had just happened. She hesitated in the foyer near the three-tiered fountain, watching a couple going into the restaurant just beyond.

"Are you from the_ Enterprise_?"

The silky-toned, husky voice startled her. She turned to find a dark-skinned woman in red smiling at her in a friendly, serene way. "Yes. I am."

"Good -- maybe you can help me. I'm a friend of Captain Picard's. My name's Guinan." She hesitated and held out a hand. "And you are?"

"Lieutenant Natalia Greenman." The woman's hand was smooth and cool. Firm grip.

"I found out he was staying here, but the desk won't give out room numbers and he's apparently not up there anyway. Have you seen him?"

"Uh -- actually, I have." Who was this, an old flame or something? "How do you know him? He's never mentioned you, and neither has his wife."

The smile broadened. "Lieutenant, you don't have to worry. Deanna knows I'm meeting him. I would have been at the wedding, if circumstances hadn't prevented my receiving the invitation in time. I take it you know them well?"

Natalia studied the dark eyes and guessed she must be at least empathically-sensitive. Something about Guinan reminded her of Deanna. "You could say that."

"You seem a little upset. Is something wrong?" Guinan glanced at the entrance Natalia had just come through. "Is the captain all right?"

"He's fine. It's been a long day, I guess I'm a bit tired." It clicked -- he'd been on his way to meet this woman and gotten mugged, and had tried to escape further delay by denying medical attention. Though he might have gone to the medical center on his own upon notifying Guinan where he was -- he would have that much sense, certainly.

"You were looking at the restaurant. Meeting someone?"

"No, I was just. . . I haven't had dinner yet."

"Well, come on with me, then. You can show me where the captain is, and then come with us to my place. And we'll eat reheated food together."

\--------------------------

"So the bottom line is, you can't get the door open without damaging it beyond our ability to repair, without a starbase."

"That's what I said," Geordi said. He frowned and peered into her face. "Are you sure you're all -- "

Deanna slapped both hands to her thighs, to keep herself from hitting him. At the sudden movement he jumped back a few inches. "Commander, I am not ill. I am pregnant. My current mood is directly related to the situation -- our captain saw fit not to inform his first officer that this sort of thing _might _happen. Our ship is sitting out here in the middle of nowhere, dead as a doorstop -- "

"Doornail," Geordi muttered. She glared him to silence at the correction -- it was a stupid human saying, anyway. She couldn't even remember where she'd heard it. More irritating that he felt the glimmerings of amusement at her error.

"First you tell me you can get the doors to open, now you tell me you can't." Waving her arms, she stalked down the floor of the shuttle bay toward the vessels neatly lined up in their spots. "Have you tried circumventing the controls and manually -- "

"Manually open those doors? Commander, have you forgotten -- "

"Geordi, you're supposed to know how to do things like this. We need to get control of our computer back, or get a message to someone who can."

"I _know_ this! You can't just open these things by turning a handle!" He gestured at the huge gunmetal-grey doors of the bay. "You want to start cutting it open with a phaser?"

She knew what he was getting at. There was no clear and present danger. They could exist comfortably until the shuttle returned with the captain -- of course, then there was the humiliation factor, of having him beam on over into the bridge and punch in a code, and suddenly the computer would sound just as pleasant as ever. She'd already involved most of the crew in working toward a solution, and here they were just sitting, with the chance, however remote, of opportunists coming along and towing them off while laughing merrily about their prize, a Sovereign-class vessel full of highly-trained Starfleet officers who couldn't control their own computer.

And now she was arguing with her chief engineer about things already covered, out of sheer frustration -- if he said he could or couldn't do something, he meant it. There was no justification for completely-desperate measures. Yet.

She plexed and stared at one of the shuttle pods. deLio had taken her out for flight training himself, in a number of these vessels. To distract herself from her present frustrations and hopefully dissipate some of her anger in hopes of not slamming Geordi to the floor in a headlock, she went over the specs for each class of shuttle in her head. The maximum velocity, maximum load, armaments, engine specs, thrusters --

One of those intuitive leaps struck her. She'd sensed it in Jean-Luc before, and in Will -- when connections were made and hunches brought into being, and the sense of rightness that came with it.

Calm washed over her. Bliss. She strolled back across the length of the bay, looking up from the deck plates at the chief engineer. Geordi waited with trepidation.

"Geordi, if we are to assume this subroutine ran the instant the computer sensed a high security risk -- would it be safe to assume that if the risk were to go away, the computer would release the lockout?"

"It's obviously a sophisticated piece of programming. I'd think so." Geordi leaned against the shuttle he'd been standing next to. "But getting rid of whatever it is that's out there isn't feasible. We can't even move."

"But we are on the edge of sensor range. If we were out of sensor range, there would be no perceptible threat."

"But again, we can't move the ship without the computer."

Deanna gave him what Jean-Luc referred to as the Betazoid Death Glare. "How far would we have to move the ship to be out of range?"

Geordi was getting impatient. "About fifty kilometers, maybe a hundred or so. If we were just starting to get readings it wouldn't have to be far."

"Is there any way to gain manual control of the maneuvering thrusters? How far would we drift once we fired some of them in tandem?"

"We'd probably drift. . . ." He stared at her in growing realization and awe.

"Get a team. Start crawling in jeffries tubes. I want to be drifting away from whatever that is out there within the hour. Make it so, Commander," she intoned, marching for the exit.

\--------------------------

Natalia sat among the plants growing on the small balcony, looking up at the moon. Amazing how many potted leafy things Guinan had crammed onto the tiny several-meters-square area allotted to her apartment. It made an effective hiding place when one sat on the creaky metal stool that had previously held a big blue pot with an insect-eating plant in it.

She looked up at the three moons, the largest of which hung pale pink directly overhead, and imagined what it would have been like on a date with that jerk security officer. Probably better to be where she was, though the captain had shown such discomfort at seeing her with Guinan.

That woman -- what was her trip? Natalia had tried to excuse herself but Guinan wouldn't let her, even though she knew the captain didn't want the lieutenant there with them. They really were good friends, the captain and the enigma with braided hair and the know-everything serene smile. That was obvious. But conversation faltered each time his eyes caught Natalia, sitting awkwardly in her chair feeling like an eavesdropper.

The door opened, light spilled out and a rush of warm air, and the captain stepped outside. "Why are you hiding out here?" he murmured.

"Just moongazing, sir. Nice night for it."

He hesitated, looking at her, then closed the door. Shoulder against the wall at his right, he looked at her. "Yes. But you're being a little rude to your hostess."

"Well, you're my commanding officer. Excuse me if I'm a little more worried about you than her. You don't seem to want me here. I tried to leave. She wouldn't let me."

He sighed, sounding genuinely distressed. "You're angry at me."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't see how you could come to that conclusion. I have no reason to be angry at you." She shifted her weight and the stool creaked.

"Natalia. . . you sound upset. It's going to be a long shuttle ride home if you keep this up -- I may have to borrow security from the base if you're as angry as you -- "

"That won't be necessary, sir. I'll just stay here on Telix. They sure need better security personnel, they couldn't even catch the guy who mugged you."

He came away from the wall and faced her more directly, arms crossed. "What are you talking about?" When she didn't answer, he ran his hand over his head. "You would give up so easily, simply because -- "

"I'm not giving up. I can't work aboard your ship any more, sir, as much as I've enjoyed it -- there comes a point at which one must recognize limitations -- "

"What the hell are you babbling about, Lieutenant?"

"I can't be responsible for the safety of someone who conceals information necessary to perform my duties properly. You didn't tell me where you were going, so if you _had_ died I wouldn't have had a clue of where to start looking for you. And I didn't know you had an artificial heart -- what if the med techs hadn't come right away, and I didn't realize you were breathing and started CPR? It's completely ineffective on mechanical devices and I would've busted your ribs for no good reason, because you wouldn't have regained consciousness without medical intervention after that paralyzer knocked you out -- I can't work under these conditions. If you want to die, sir, you can just go do it on someone else's watch, because I really don't _want_ my career to go down the tubes because I couldn't get my own CO to give me all the information necessary to -- "

"Natalia, stop it."

She jumped off the stool with a final squeal and creak. "If I had been with you it wouldn't have happened. I'm already going to catch hell for this. With all due respect, sir, I'm going to be lucky if I get a passable review this rotation. I made assumptions, and that's one of the first things deLio told us, never to make any assumptions about anything."

"This isn't like you, Natalia. Settle down. There won't be any reprimands made -- "

"Favoritism -- another reason I should be transferring. I don't need you to -- "

"Lieutenant!" he barked. The echo of it bounced off the buildings across the street. The distant noise of some sort of metal grinding in a track disturbed the following stillness. After a few long moments, he sighed again. "You committed no error. You are not responsible for my welfare. You came on this trip to fly the shuttle, not as security detail, and it isn't your place to assign yourself to be my personal security guard."

"You can fly your own shuttle." Natalia leaned against the waist-high stone wall and contemplated hurdling it and going back to the hotel.

"Maybe I didn't want to. Maybe I've been on too many long lonely shuttle trips and the thought of fourteen hours alone in a shuttle to get back to the ship after the conference didn't appeal. Maybe it's been a month since the last time I talked to you about anything of any substance, and I wanted to touch bases with a friend."

"You have plenty of friends, why bother with -- "

His hand closed on her arm, and she realized she'd let herself cry -- tears had blinded her and she'd been that distracted from his approach. "What is this really about? Because I'm not in the habit of losing good officers for no good reason, and -- "

"I'd rather not talk about this. Thank you for your concern." It came out with amazing calm, but was ruined by an odd gulping noise she couldn't stifle.

Another long silence. "I'm not your counselor, Natalia. I can't read minds, either. If you don't want to talk to me about this I'm not going to subject myself to -- "

The door opened. "I have some pie, if anyone would like dessert."

Natalia bowed to the etiquette her mother had taught her and went inside. The distraction would keep him from continuing the conversation anyway. She accepted a plate of pie and fell into one of the slouchy amorphous chairs. Predictably, it closed around her like a friendly amoeba, nearly swallowing her head in green felt. She put the plate in her lap and sat with her head encased in chair, hiding comfortably until Guinan pushed it apart with both hands and looked down at her.

"I hate your furniture," Natalia blurted in a fit of pique. Before she could apologize, her hostess responded.

"Actually, so do I. But you can't argue with free." Guinan gestured at the captain, who perched on the edge of a table in front of the window. The one-way window, through which Guinan had probably seen the whole altercation on the balcony down to the tears on her cheek. Great. "Are you two having an argument?"

"I never argue with a commanding officer." Natalia sampled the pie and wished the woman would go get herself some, and let her eat in sullen peace. "It's good."

"Glad you like it. My neighbor made it. She likes me -- I'm a good listener, and she's one of those who has a lot to say and no one to say it to." Finally, she moved away. "She's an old woman now, by her standards. Amazing the places she's been and the things she's seen. Works down at the base, doing menial things -- gives her the chance to think, she says. Remember people she's known and loved. It's all she can do any more is remember, and that's part of her problem."

A bit of pie arrested in midair on the tines of her fork, Natalia glared up around a protrusion of chair. "Hey, don't you try to buffalo me into something. I spent a year in counseling with Commander Troi, I've been blindsided into confessions more than I care to admit."

A quickly-stifled snort from the captain didn't help. Guinan eyed her for a moment. "Touchy, aren't we?"

"The best thing that's happened to me in the last six hours is this piece of pie. I've been scared out of my socks, had some big goon make a pass at me and insult my commanding officer in the same breath, and I'm supposed to be calm? What a great leave I'm having. All I need now is to be hijacked by pirates!"

"I've had that happen," the captain said quietly.

"What scared you out of your socks?" Guinan sat in the chair on the other side of the room -- which, being just like Natalia's, quickly swallowed her. The sight of that dark face peering out of the green amoeba almost made Natalia laugh. Except she was supposed to answer the question, and she couldn't.

So she ate pie, and after a few moments, Guinan went back to talking to her real guest, the one she'd initially invited. Natalia wished she could find a valid excuse to go back to the hotel but there were none. And finally, the captain called it quits and they left the apartment.

The moons had moved slightly west. A mist had drifted in from somewhere. They walked in silence down the street, breath clouding in front of their noses. On a corner under a light he stopped, forcing her to hesitate and look back at him.

"Tell me what happened, Nat. While I was unconscious -- what was it that's got you blaming yourself for what happened? It wasn't your fault or your responsibility."

"I know it wasn't my fault. Look. . . ." She tucked her hands in her armpits to keep them warm. "I'm sorry I got so upset back there. I didn't feel right being there. It wasn't my place to go butting in on -- "

"Did Guinan invite you or not?"

"Well, she did, but -- why _did_ she invite me? I don't know. She's not human, is she?"

The captain inclined his head and breathed three times before answering -- that was how many times a cloud formed under his nose. "She isn't human, and she's not in the habit of inviting people she doesn't trust to her home. She liked you. I take that as confirmation of what I already knew. Although it dismays me that you were silent and sullen all evening, and that when you did speak it was with a note of uncharacteristic belligerence."

"I'm sorry, sir. Safe to say that won't happen again."

His expression saddened -- she didn't like it. It made him look older. "Don't close yourself off, Natalia. Not after all the progress you've made."

She couldn't answer that, either. Her eyes didn't seem to want to stay on his face, and she began to turn away --

"_Enterprise_ to Captain Picard."

They froze, staring at each other, and when he recovered from shock he tapped his badge. "Picard here. Excuse me, but -- aren't you supposed to be traveling in the opposite direction to investigate an -- "

"We never made it. There's something between here and there," Commander Troi's voice said. She sounded tired. "Something that our computer decided we didn't need to know about. Does the Greek letter omega mean anything to you?"

It was the first time Natalia had seen him gape outright. "Oh," he managed at last. "Lieutenant, we'll finish this discussion tomorrow. Go back to the hotel. _Enterprise_, one to beam up."

Natalia watched him disappear in a flare and sparkle, shook her head, and turned to finish the walk back to their accommodations.

\--------------------------

Deanna stood in the center of the bridge with crossed arms, the other senior officers behind her and the beta shift crew at their posts. When Jean-Luc left the lift, he slowed, taking note of the stares. He stopped at the foot of the ramp and looked around, then went into the ready room. The doors closed.

A moment later, Ward sighed. "Guess that means it's still going to be a secret."

"We knew it would anyway," Geordi said. "Anything that shut us down that solid has got to be too dangerous and too high security for the likes of us to know about it."

Deanna stood silent and serene. The inhibitor, though she'd taken a very low dosage over two hours before, still held up. She could wait, and she could be calm.

Long moments ticked by. Finally, the ready room door opened, and their captain came out smiling. He glanced at their faces once again. "What are you all doing on the bridge? Your shift ended three hours ago."

"Sir, what about -- whatever it was?" Geordi asked.

"Starfleet will take care of it. In the meantime, we have three days of respite -- we'll be able to continue with the assigned mission once the crisis is over." His eyes fell on Deanna, and his smile warmed considerably. "Good night. And, good work. Quite a creative solution to an unusual problem."

Obviously the logs were easily accessed with the right codes. Deanna had tried and failed to get at the sensor and ship's logs herself, once they'd unstuck themselves. It'd given her something to do on the warp seven trip to Telix to find him. She watched him leave the bridge, then bade everyone else good night and headed for the lift herself. Ward and Geordi came with her. As the lift traveled down from the bridge, she noticed the two of them staring at her.

"What?"

"He'd better explain it to you, at least," Geordi said. "You deserve it. After all that -- "

"If it's so high security that the computer shuts down the ship I don't know if I_ want _to know about it. All I want at the moment is a good night's sleep." Deanna rubbed Yves absently. With the captain not _officially_ back on board, she could still delegate. "Ward, leave schedules. Put yourself up first. Put me in the second rotation."

"Yes, sir."

The lift opened on deck eight. She glanced at Ward, trying to remember if he'd ever said that before -- it seemed to her it'd always been 'yes commander' with him. Geordi grinned at her when her eyes reached his face; he'd not said much to her since the shuttle bay, reporting and obeying further orders with professional crispness.

"Why do I get the feeling -- in spite of being under the influence of the inhibitor -- that the two of you aren't telling me something you want to say?"

The men exchanged glances. Ward's cheeks reddened slightly, reminding her of apples as he grinned to match Geordi. "Are we off duty?"

"Of course. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Wouldn't want to get on your bad side, that's all. If you don't get a commendation for it, I'm sending Command a complaint. Here we were all thinking we should be hacking into the computer, and all we needed was a push. Even after we suspected the sensor readings had something to do with it, I wouldn't have thought of the possibility of tricking the computer into thinking the threat had gone away."

Geordi elbowed Ward. "That's why she's the first officer, right?"

At first, the accolade felt good -- but they were _too _impressed. Deanna sighed, managed a smile, and left them there in the lift. At least she'd proven herself. That should console her, shouldn't it? Whatever little doubts her fellow officers had had, they'd be gone now. But the last six months she'd been first officer, what had they been thinking? That she'd crack under pressure?

Or was she simply being too sensitive about this, and there had been no doubt on their part -- was this her own fear projecting itself? The difficulty with being too accustomed to analyzing motive and emotion. Too hard to resist turning the psychologist's scalpel on herself and those closest to her. She steadied herself, slowing her pace as she approached her quarters and settling her thoughts on her captain.

Jean-Luc was thinking hard when she came in, his back to the door and his chin in hand. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched her until she came to a stop in the middle of the room. It felt good to have him there. She'd felt much better the instant they entered orbit and he was close enough to sense, however distantly. Inhibitor or no, there was some part of her that remained connected to her hajira.

Something in his expression reminded her of the odd vision of being in a theater -- pensiveness, serious expectation, and curiosity had all been in his face. Then he smiled at her, wiping away the uncomfortable memory and making it hard for her to remain the officer.

"You're not going to tell me what it was about," she said, with a hint of reproach.

His affectionate smile waned. "I'm sorry. All I can tell you is that Starfleet has a special detachment to deal with it, and we won't have to go back. You did very well, Commander. Very well, indeed."

"Thank you, sir. Although I would have appreciated at least the knowledge that something like that _could_ happen. That way I wouldn't have crew thinking we were being sabotaged and that I wasn't making the right decisions."

He'd taken a few steps in her direction, and it brought him to a stop. She saw the frustration in his face. "I'm sorry. If I could have said anything. . . but the likelihood of it ever happening at all was against all odds. I'm sorry. It's over. And I'm proud of you, Deanna. Your logs, those of Ward and Geordi and deLio -- you didn't falter once."

Anger rose cold and solid in her. "Why do I get the feeling every last one of you expected me to?"

The shock he felt wasn't so much on his face -- but he could be as unreadable as he wanted, she had long experience with his range of facial expressions. No need for empathy when the slight tilt of his head and the set of his mouth did just as well. "That wasn't what I meant. I expect you to do your duty, which you did, but in similar circumstances the most seasoned of officers would be caught unprepared -- no one expects their own ship to turn on them. You didn't panic and make the obvious assumption, that it was sabotage. You maintained your resolve to regain control of the ship and surmised that it was a higher priority to have the sensor logs unlocked and to have me notify Starfleet -- you minimized the delay of Starfleet's response to the threat by your actions. You did exactly as you should have done without knowing the details."

"I see. Thank you. I'm glad my fumbling around in the dark didn't turn out wrong. If you'll excuse me, Yves and I have been through a lot today." She pulled the band from her hair and headed for the bedroom.

"Why do I get the feeling every woman in the galaxy is furious with me?"

She hesitated, looking back at him out of the corner of an eye. Such an uncharacteristically-plaintive tone he took. "Furious? Jean-Luc, I've been stressed for hours. I'll save scolding for tomorrow when I have the energy to yell at you. Why, who else is angry at you? Not Guinan," she said, only making it half a question.

"No. Natalia -- " More of that overcompensating, with a neutral expression to hide behind. He'd long since accepted his persistent paternal affection for the young woman, enough so that Deanna's suggestion that he take Nat with him to pilot and keep him company had been accepted with minimal grouching. He wasn't usually this anxious about Natalia. That meant personal was vying with professional concerns.

"Come on. Shower and bed, and you can tell me about it."

She showered first; he didn't touch her and hardly looked at her, though she knew from previous reunions that he ached to do so -- her own body wanted his touch, as well. Hajira did that to them. While he took his turn in the shower, she left the bathroom and sat in front of the mirror to brush out her hair, slipping into a jade green silk shift when she finished. Closing her eyes, she stood and stretched her arms high over her head, easing tension in her back, rolling her shoulders.

His hand on her back wasn't entirely unexpected, but she jumped. She turned, eyes still closed, and folded herself into his arms as if the movement had been rehearsed precisely that way many times before. Warmth and chest hair along her cheek -- her arms found their way around him. After a few moments they went to bed, and he turned out the lights.

In the darkness, sprawled across him with her head on his shoulder and being held as she'd wanted to be just a few hours ago, the last thing she wanted to do was talk -- but what he'd said about Natalia worried her.

"What happened, Jean-Fish?"

He sighed and one of his hands curled over the back of her head, a comforting gesture. "I was on my way to meet Guinan. I passed a storefront, stepped around some pedestrians, drew even with an alley -- the next thing I knew I woke, and there were two medical personnel from the local Starfleet HQ leaning over me, and Natalia and some security fellow were standing nearby looking at me. She looked like she'd seen a ghost. It was just a mugging, I felt fine, I was put out by a neural paralyzer -- Natalia threatened to tattle on me if I didn't go to the medical center. I'd planned to anyway after meeting with Guinan, but I went immediately -- when I came out Nat was waiting. I told her she didn't have to stay with me but she showed no signs of going -- until she shouted at me. Then she abruptly said good night and walked off. Evidently she'd checked my pulse and thought I was dead when she'd found me. It shook her up more than she wanted to admit."

Deanna groaned. "She's closing herself off from you, isn't she? Pulling away and denying any emotional reaction?"

"I'm not going to hold the girl's hand every time she -- "

"Jean-Luc. You don't have to. Let her catch her second wind. You traumatized her by appearing to be dead, and she needs a chance to recover."

He sighed, the rush of air loud in her right ear. "That's why she threatened to leave the ship? Drastic way to get your second wind."

"Did you reassure her that you're all right?"

"I told her so, repeatedly. I even asked her why she was angry -- I got a lecture on why she should leave the ship, chiding me for not giving her the information necessary to protect me thus making it impossible for her to do her duty, and quoting favoritism as another reason when I tried to contradict that."

"A lecture." She giggled tiredly. "Like daughter, like father."

His fingers tightened in her hair. The restless movement of his feet matched the impulse to do something -- useless. "Bloody hell. I told her about Meribor, finally. She cried. She tried to hide it in a trip to the back of the shuttle, but I could see it in her face. Her reaction -- "

"Stop practicing psychology without a license, analytical fish. How do you feel?"

She could predict it, no empathy necessary. Guilt. Worry. And, as usual when it was too uncomfortable, evasion of the question. "Guinan met her at the hotel, looking for me. She invited her to dinner with us. Natalia sat there like she wanted to jump out the window and run away, hardly spoke, hid on the balcony for a while. . . Guinan tried to talk to her. She caught Guinan trying to draw her out and shut the conversation down."

"Too much counseling has made her wary. I have the feeling even Guinan will find your protege a challenge." Deanna smiled against his chest. "Probably why she likes her. Nat's just as hopeless as you are."

"I am truly a masochist of gargantuan proportions," he grumbled. "Marrying my own counselor. What was I thinking?"

"You weren't. That's how I know you really love me."

He chuckled at that, his hand drifting down her cheek to tangle his fingers in her hair. "I missed you terribly, but having Nat along seemed to help. Watching her make a miserable showing at kaltoh and losing hand after hand of poker distracted me from the emptiness."

"Where is Nat right now?"

"She'd better be at the hotel. If she gets herself in trouble, I'll throw her in the brig myself."

"How is Guinan?"

"She won't tell me what she's really doing, as usual, but she seems to be doing well enough. I asked her if she'd be joining us -- told her we needed Ten Forward back. She's thinking about it. She wants to see you. Not two words about why we got together -- felt good to finally have a friend accept it without a question."

Deanna suspected Guinan would have plenty of questions, but that they wouldn't be asked of the usual people in the usual way. She had a way of gleaning information without revealing that she did so.

Both of them fell silent for a while, enjoying the unexpected gift of being together again sooner than they'd anticipated. He moved beneath her, and his left hand slid down her back and over a buttock. His arousal became perceptible to her in a quite direct fashion, but he made no further moves, just a gentle squeezing of her upper thigh.

"How long have you known Guinan, exactly?"

"Exactly," he echoed. "I don't care to do the math. Years. Which would make me feel old, but she's got me beat by a few centuries. Why?"

"She must know you as well as I do. Possibly better."

His hand tightened again on her thigh. "Do I hear jealousy?" he asked playfully. He knew better.

"Why would I be jealous, when part of the fun is in the exploration? If I already knew all about you, it wouldn't be nearly so much an adventure." She pressed a hip against him. "Besides, there are parts of you she doesn't know quite so intimately."

"I thought you were tired."

"I am. But you're having the standard reaction to the hajira's reunion. If you're just going to keep me up all night poking me in the back with it, what's the use of resisting?"

He rolled on his side and dislodged her. "Go to sleep. You've had a difficult day. Naps in the ready room don't count when there's a crisis."

"As you wish, cuddly fish." She let him drape an arm and leg over her, his hand finding Yves as if he needed to reassure himself his son was still there. The warmth of his presence was the best relaxant of all. She had nearly drifted off to sleep when his chuckling became audible. "What is it now?"

"It really was an ingenuous solution to the problem. You'll do anything to get me in bed with you, won't you?"

Torn between hitting him, hugging him, or simply rolling her eyes, she decided on an adequate compromise and tugged with a firm hand on a part of his anatomy he couldn't ignore. "Shut up, arrogant fish."

"Yes, ma'am. Let go?"

"Only because I love you. Nice falsetto, by the way."

"Shut up."

"You started it."

When at long last his breathing evened out and he began to snore lightly, Deanna released the hold she'd kept on her emotions, and tears slipped down her nose and cheek. He'd done it again. Gone off the ship somewhere and gotten in a potentially-lethal situation. His entire focus was on Natalia's reaction to it -- he seemed oblivious to the fact that he could have died there in that alley if not for Natalia calling for help.

She stifled a sob and held her breath, letting it out slowly after a moment. She could cope with this. Maybe. Oh, who was she kidding? On top of the last ten hours this was just impossible.

"Deanna, what's wrong?" Obviously, he wasn't so asleep as she'd thought.

"Why can't you have a normal, boring walk down the street like everyone else? Less than a day on a Federation colony, well within our space, no Romulans or Ferengi in sight, and you manage to get in trouble -- "

"Deebird, I'm fine. There's nothing to worry about." Now he was in full soothing mode, pulling her closer. With her ear to his chest she listened and heard the usual -- nothing. If he hadn't been rubbing her belly and kissing the back of her neck, making soft sounds of skin against fabric and lips against skin, she could have heard the quiet hum and click of the artificial heart at work.

She cried out the frustrations and fears into the heart fire, as low and imperceptible as it was thanks to the inhibitor still fuzzing her empathy to uselessness. At the end she was left in her husband's arms, where she felt safe. He kissed her, reassuring, and smoothed her hair out of her face while murmuring endearments.

Complicated, the path they meandered from officer to spouse. But it could be navigated well enough by the light of a heart fire.

"Jean," she murmured, and his arms tightened around her slightly as she lay on her back looking up at the stars through her eyelashes. "I was afraid."

"Obviously."

"No," she whispered. "Once we regained access to the computer, I didn't think about Starfleet much, not through to the conclusion you reached -- I didn't think about the logistics of it being a priority to get the logs unlocked until after I'd ordered the ship to warp. All I wanted to do was give the ship back to my captain and get off the bridge. The correct reason, the dedication to duty, was an afterthought. I failed you."

He went completely still, not even breathing -- the light trickle of air from his nose against her temple stopped. Finally he sighed. "Cygne, you didn't fail. Can you tell me that if you hadn't gone to warp for the reasons you suggest, you wouldn't have thought of the _correct_ reason in the next five minutes? That after you tried to get into the logs and saw the high levels of encryption, you wouldn't have deduced that immediate action should be taken?"

"Oh." She closed her eyes tightly. "Oh."

Another sigh, and a chuckle. "Go to sleep, ma chére cygne."

She tried, but she couldn't settle. The ridiculousness of it! She'd felt such dismay that the first thought in her mind had been of turning over the ship to him before it suddenly decided to lock her out again, and her grave confession had been dismissed with such logical, precise reasoning. Of course she would have thought of it -- it'd been so obvious that the whole omega program was designed to protect the Federation from some threat so great no one could even know about it, the next logical step was to realize that the logs needed to be unencrypted and transmitted to Starfleet. That the computer had continued to lock out long range communications even after propulsion, sensors and tactical had been released said some serious contingency planning had gone into it. The top secret encrypted logs could not be sent anywhere, until someone with clearance reviewed them and probably initiated yet another encryption algorithm.

"Jean-Fish?"

"Mmm?" He was mostly asleep himself.

"Don't tell the captain I was being that stupid."

"If he ever asks, I'll tell him you were talking in your sleep. Shut up. Sleep."

"Bossy fish."

"Silly bird."

They lay in silence for a dozen heartbeats or so. Suddenly, her stomach complained. Before she could move, he was out of bed and heading for the replicator.

"Pie," she sang out. "Uttaberry, with cherries and whipping cream and chocolate crust."

"An odd combination of flavors." But he brought the latest miracle of replication and handed it to her before climbing back in bed. She gave him the second forkful, almost missing his mouth in the starlight. The inhibitor still had a hold on her, but only by the fingertips; she caught a faint emotional reaction as their eyes met. Nodding, he wiped cream from the side of his mouth and licked his finger. "But not unpleasant."

"Daddy liked to cook. He thought the flavors of cherry and uttaberry would go well together, so he experimented and found that chocolate added to it." Cutting a large bite, she jammed it into her mouth -- it had been years since she'd had this, mostly because it always brought up sad memories of her father, but for some reason it didn't bother her as it had before. The taste could bring back remembered emotion so easily -- she'd eaten this at the dinner following the funeral, as they'd served many of his favorite foods in his memory. Why the pie had sprung to mind just then she couldn't fathom. Except that she'd thought of Daddy on and off all day, in those odd turns of imagination -- it had to have something to do with the pregnancy. She knew from her studies in psychology that it could put odd thoughts in a woman's mind.

Jean-Luc still sat up watching her, she realized as she ran her tongue along her lower lip to catch berry juice. Tilting her head quizzically, she offered him another bite. He took it, a little starlight catching in his eye, then leaned to kiss her cheek. "It's too bad, really," he murmured.

"What is?" It came out a mumble, around a mouthful of pie.

"That you can't have any wine. Of course, we could still beam down and sneak out to the park outside city limits, and watch the moons finish drifting across the sky, wine or no."

"I thought we were supposed to sleep. You just told me to sleep, in fact. You have a conference to attend and I have -- "

"You could sleep if you wanted. I like to watch you sleep. Opportunities are created more often than they are taken advantage of -- who knows how many more times I will be able to enjoy watching you eating pie in bed? Who knows how many more chances I might have to sit in moonlight with you?"

"And this was enough to change your mind about forcing me to sleep?"

"Do you think getting off the ship will help you relax?"

Tears prickled in Deanna's eyes. He wasn't supposed to be able to tell she couldn't relax. Though she hadn't meditated, and he _was_ well acquainted with the nuances of her body language. "Probably," was all she could manage without outright weeping. She busied herself with polishing off what was left of her pie. Setting aside the plate, she almost licked the last bit of stray whipped cream from her lips, but leaned and pointed at it instead. "Saved you some."

He took the cream and shared it with her in a distracting kiss. As they parted she realized she could sense his arousal -- her sluggish empathy was fighting off the inhibitor at last. Their eyes met in the starlight and heart fire flared between them.

"We'll have to put on clothes, you know," she murmured.

"That's all right. They can be removed easily."

She raised an eyebrow. "This must be a secluded park. There won't be any muggers around?"

"Have I ever shown you how to throw together a sensor net using a couple of tricorders and a medscanner?"

"Um. . . can we take -- "

"Maybe I should make it a whole pie this time? With a jar of lekarra on the side?"

"I love it when you read my mind, cher."

"I think you forget how many times you've gotten me up late at night with your grumbling stomach."

\--------------------------

Natalia stopped in the middle of the street, staring at the hotel. Something had moved and caught her peripheral vision. It was dark, the side of the four-story hotel lit only by moonlight, and there was light in half the windows -- but a shadow had passed across one of the dark ones. There must be light inside that room, albeit a very low level of it. A quick count -- the room two windows down from her own room. The captain's room.

She went a few more steps then stopped again, thinking it through. He had beamed up to the ship, to take care of something -- whatever had brought the _Enterprise_ to them had to be urgent. He wouldn't be back down this quickly after going to take care of it, and he had missed Deanna -- why wouldn't he simply stay aboard?

Trying to appear nonchalant, she hurried inside and up the lift to the second floor. Her boots made no noise on the thick green carpet in the hall. Outside the captain's door, she listened though she knew it would be in vain. Soundproofing in hotels tended to be better than crew quarters, even those on a Sovereign-class. She knew that from having to bang her hand sore on the bulkhead when that jerk Bitsva brought another conquest into his cabin next door.

She couldn't sleep until she knew all was well. So she touched the annunciator panel, and -- nothing.

Had she been mistaken? Counting up the doors and matching it with her count of the windows from outside, she thought not. The housekeeping staff? Had he checked out and sent someone to get his things?

It didn't sit right, regardless. She rang the annunciator again. Nothing. Giving it a good five minutes, she smacked the panel again in frustration and walked back to her room. As her door opened at the slide of her palm over the panel, the captain's door opened. She froze, staring, as the Raibi from the alley walked out and stared back at her.

One of them raised an energy weapon, mostly obscured in his massive hairy hand. The business end of it was quite visible, however. They'd been waiting for the captain. It'd been them all along.

She launched herself into her room and smacked the controls, shutting the door, then hit the comm badge --

That wasn't there. Shit. It must've fallen off, probably knocked off by that weird lady's amoeba furniture.

She heard a quiet beeping -- the tiny red light on the door panel went green. A lock cipher -- must have been how they'd gotten into the captain's room. One door, one window --

Casting a longing look at the comm panel near the bed, she charged across the room, dropped the report the security jerk had given her, opened the window with a slap of her hand on a control, and leaped out as the door slid open behind her. Diving out a second story window wasn't fatal, she hoped, but staying in a room with beings she'd caught breaking and entering would be. The fact that they'd ciphered her lock without bothering to request entry was a solid indication of intent. She hoped she would regain consciousness quickly enough to yell in pain and get the hotel staff to call a medical team and security.

She'd forgotten about the awning that ran the length of the front of the hotel. Landing in the brocaded gold synthetic material broke her fall. The problem was, it also broke the supports, and down it went in a cloud of street dust, enveloping her in suffocating filthy folds. Hitting the sidewalk still hurt. A twinge in her side said something wasn't right, but twinges could wait -- she fought free of the awning while muted shouting came from the door it obscured, and from above a sickly-green bolt of energy underscored the necessity of a quick departure. It caught the awning on fire. Must've been some kind of weapon to catch a probably-inflammable synthetic material on fire like that.

There was nothing wrong with a really fast, really panicked retreat -- she was on leave, after all. As she rolled to her feet they set out on their own nicely, and she reached full flight mode when another bolt hit the pavement nearby. Evasive maneuvers! She charged around the corner at the end of the block --

Another Raibi stood on the sidewalk, not ten paces from her. And as she skidded to a halt, turning, she saw yet a fourth one coming down the street from the other direction. Of course. They were really after Captain Picard, after all, and you don't just send out a couple of people -- you send out a whole squadron of assassins when you're after a man who survives on a consistent basis in spite of all odds.

Without a clear idea of what she was doing, Natalia went the only direction she could -- across the street, into the shifting mist, away from the Raibi. Another shot struck a light pole as she veered away from it -- at least they were really rotten shots. Or maybe that was intentional? Were they hoping she'd lead them to the captain? They couldn't have found him in that room, after all.

Great. Stuck out in the open with no phaser and no way to call for help. But what was she thinking? The Starfleet base --

Oh. Shit. They'd have thought of that. They had to have thought of all her possible escape routes, but they couldn't have thought of Guinan's, if they'd followed the captain they would've made their move before now --

She raced down another alley between two buildings, hearing the running footfalls and the grunting, hooting dialogue between the Raibi, untranslated thanks to her carelessness with her comm badge, and hit a wall at the other end. Clambering up mostly by sheer determination, because there sure weren't many handholds, she hurdled over and dropped, landing on her feet and rolling then leaping up again and charging left, down the narrow access between the backs of buildings. No light here. Bits of trash skated away when she kicked them. Something squealed when she stepped on it; she leaped to one side at the squirming of a live thing under her boot, collided with a wall heavily, and regained her balance.

Starfleet is an adventure, she thought grimly, in a corner of her mind that somehow wasn't panicked and muddled. She'd asked for it. Here she was. The problem was it wasn't her adventure -- assassination by association? Shit in a shuttle bay! This was all _his_ fault! Forget piloting the shuttle, she'd suddenly turned into his own private lightening rod!

She left the alley and skidded out into another street, bearing right as the muted hooting call of a Raibi drifted from the left. A glimpse of two furry humanoids under a street light on that corner was enough to add adrenalin to her already-stoked fight-or-flight instinct.

Ahead of her, the pale glow of street lamps in the mist sputtered and died. Now it was _really_ dim -- only the moonlight on the mist left. The world became lighter shadows and darker shadows, and slightly-gleaming metallic surfaces every now and again.

A moment and she'd gained her bearings -- Guinan's apartment would be around the corner and two streets down from there. Rather than take a direct, easy approach, Natalia shot down yet another back alley paralleling the course she should take, hurdling the dark shadows of unknown objects and barking her shins on various edges and corners she didn't see in time.

\--------------------------

"This was a very good idea," Deanna sighed. The stars weren't really visible, thanks to all the moonlight, but the moons themselves were pretty enough. Pink and pale, hovering over the treetops to their right and almost full.

She stretched until her toes curled, lying on her back on the blanket and tucked beneath another, and smiled at Jean-Luc's profile in the moonlight. Sitting cross-legged next to her, he ate the last piece of pie at a leisurely pace, nearly as relaxed as she felt. He'd been watching her while she slept. He seemed too alert to have been napping himself.

These stolen moments were worth lost sleep. It wasn't so late, by ship's time, and she knew he could probably handle the lack of sleep -- he'd had his speech done for days, and didn't even have to show up at the conference center until after the midday break. She closed her eyes and drifted free, settling into a light meditative state. He'd set up several tricorders around them; intelligent life forms couldn't approach without triggering an alert. The clearing he'd chosen was surrounded by thick vegetation. She wondered just how much forethought he'd put into this, and what exactly he had in mind.

The night was cool, the breeze caressing her face gentle and refreshing. Jean-Luc's hand came to rest on her belly, warm and reassuring. He was singing quietly, and though she couldn't make out the words, just the fact that he felt the freedom to express the happiness she could sense made her happy.

There had been a time that she wondered if he could ever be so open. All those years of sensing what lay beneath his controlled exterior -- humans were like that, hiding away the honest expression of what they thought and felt in the name of proper behavior, and her captain was better at it than most. Funny how sometimes she heard humans laughing about Vulcans being that way. Compared to Betazoids, humans were obsessively private.

How ironic, that she'd managed to fall for one of the most private humans she knew.

His fingers brushed her cheek, and she realized she'd drifted into hazy half-slumber. Peering through her lashes, she smiled at the shadow of him. Looking at her again. He rearranged himself next to her, without removing his hand from her belly, and folded his other arm beneath his head as a pillow. "Belle aime."

"How did it happen?"

The constant rippling affection he felt shifted slightly to wariness. "How did what happen?" It was a game they played sometimes, asking questions without answers, but he wasn't sure yet it was the game or something more serious.

"How did you love me? I never believed you would."

Now he was reassured and amused. "The more valid question, from my perspective, is how you fell in love with me. I certainly didn't do much to prompt it."

She closed her eyes again and drifted. If she let herself relax, spinning herself outward and outward, opening those shields she kept around herself, then brought it all in again to focus, she could reach the closest thing to telepathy of which she was capable. Finding the focal point she sought, she rolled on her right side to face him and cupped her hand over the back of his neck. He met her gaze expectantly, but she closed her eyes, denying the heart fire, instead channeling her thoughts, imagining a conduit opening between them.

{Find myself in you, find yourself in me.}

The curiosity from him reached her, but there was that odd sensation of being on a ledge above it -- thought spilled across the weak conduit she'd built. She remembered, with all five senses and thought and emotion, and as she passed it to him he understood and concentrated --

\-- and they were in the memory of an experience she'd had several months before he had initiated their relationship. In a lift. Riding, seeing through her eyes, listening through her ears, thinking her thoughts and feeling her emotions.

He was in the lift with her, too, in the memory. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He seemed involved in

&lt;&lt; murmurings of thought/peaceful/calm.&gt;&gt;

** slight sharp smell of cologne, only the barest amount, mingled with the minimal body odor of a human **

reading the padd he held. She leaned, glacially slow

&amp;&amp; warmth of his arm, along hers &amp;&amp;

&lt;&lt; calm/spiking interest IMPULSE &gt;&gt;

and swayed back again -- two seconds later, he turned and met her eyes. "Did you know that riding is popular among the Alarians? They have something similar to a horse, a hoofed quadruped, they use as a form of transportation. They even have something similar to dressage."

"I didn't know that. I've been studying their language more than their hobbies."

"But it's not just a hobby

&lt;&lt; piquing interest, anticipation/warmth &gt;&gt;

it's nearly a universal interest. They invest a great deal of resources to exhibitions and contests, and seem to idolize. . . ."

{Does he ever realize -- no, he wouldn't. Because I'm watching him with interest. If he knew I was more interested in thinking about his eyes and how they'd look if he were showing such intense interest in me, he'd be embarrassed. Or angry. Oh, he's stopping -- }

"That's very interesting. It sounds like you'll have a lot to talk about with them. Maybe they'll invite you along on a ride?"

&lt;&lt; amusement, near-laughing but not &gt;&gt; "I doubt it. It's very likely I would not be up to the challenge -- the beasts have four-inch fangs and stand four meters at the shoulder."

She faced the doors. "I thought starship captains were up to any challenge. Isn't willingness to go against the odds a prerequisite to command?"

&lt;&lt; curiosity/question/wry amusement &gt;&gt; "You wouldn't be a captain for long without knowing a losing battle when you see one."

She shrugged. "I wouldn't be a captain. That's a job best left in your capable {strong, masculine} hands."

"Hm. You don't think you could be, or you don't want to be?"

The lift doors opened. They walked out. Several crew &lt;&lt; anger/frustration, calm contemplation, sadness, anger, happy &gt;&gt; turned the corner in the junction as they went left and headed for the transporter room. Hanging back a few steps was easy enough.

&lt;&lt; thoughts murmuring, fascination &gt;&gt; He was probably caught up in imagining the Alarian version of horseback riding. His relaxed gait, his poise, his profile -- that smile. She watched him walking and --

\-- then it was gone. The connection fizzled abruptly. She opened her eyes, then sat up, looking down at her husband; he'd rolled on his back and looked disoriented. Then he sat up, too.

"How did you do that?"

"After what happened with the Ullians I began striving for better control of certain mental functions, working toward better telepathic defenses. That was a Betazoid technique, a basic telepathic exercise. Because I had just come off the inhibitor, my psylosynine levels were rising -- they tend to spike about an hour after the inhibitor wears off. I wanted to see if it would work."

He pulled his legs beneath him and settled on his knees, sitting on his heels. Taking her hands in his, he contemplated them. "You wanted to see if you could reach me telepathically. On a different level than we are already capable?"

"I was attempting a deeper connection. Perhaps the best way to describe it is as levels of consciousness. I practiced with Mother when she was aboard, but she pulled me along too much. It's no use, I'm no telepath -- I tried, at least."

"You're disappointed. Deebird, we already have so much more than I would have expected -- what was it you were trying to accomplish?"

She considered a full explanation, likening it to something he could understand -- her feeble grasp on some of the Betazoid mental disciplines had always been a source of much frustration. If she had to draw comparisons it would be to learning how to speak. The difficulty would be in his interpretation of it -- he would be angry at the implication of deficiency. From a telepath's perspective, she was handicapped. From his perspective, she was capable and perceptive in every way that mattered.

"I was trying to see if it might be possible to form another kind of bond. Betazoid families pull together when a child is in the womb and knit themselves together to provide emotional support, especially at the birth. We have something similar, but it's not the same, not as solid or as strong. If I had been able to reach. . . . Still, it may be there's enough there to work something out. Hajira will help." She smiled and squeezed his fingers lightly.

He let frustration come forward at last. "Did you have to choose a memory that made me live through vicariously ogling my own backside?"

"Now you know how I feel."

His eye sockets looked dark and hollow. Moonlight tended to cast more shadows, she noticed. He raised his head at last, letting the light further in so she could see his expression better. "And you wanted to see how I would take that."

"You wanted to know how I could fall in love with you. Attraction is part of it, you know."

"That was more direct than what I've sensed from you before. A sample of what this new bond you're talking about would be like?"

"I don't know. I've learned not to attempt to predict what we're capable of accomplishing." She ran a finger along the collar of his shirt thoughtfully. "We've accomplished so much already."

"Dee. . . earlier, when you told me you failed -- you aren't looking for an excuse to leave Starfleet, are you? If you would be happier doing something else, I expect you to tell me."

He'd been thinking too much. He must have done it while she'd been napping earlier. Waiting until she was asleep to work through his more emotionally-troublesome thoughts was so typically thoughtful of him. The problem was that he sprang it on her without warning, when he did finally get around to talking about those issues.

"I expect you to trust me to tell you. Stop trying to predict what I want. That was paranoid silliness -- before I really thought about my motivations I also did my share of gloating. You should have seen Geordi's expression when I told him to start crawling in jeffries tubes."

Unlike earlier, she could sense his pride in her now, along with his amusement at the thought of Geordi's face when she'd given the order. He smiled and bent to brush his lips against hers reverently. "I haven't seen nearly enough of you lately. Whose idea was it to schedule you on a different shift, anyway?"

"It does everyone some good to shake things up once in a while. And the usual beta shift officers were getting lazy. You said Mendez was doing well enough. Besides, I went back on alpha the day you left, and I'll be staying there."

"Good. I have no complaints about the crew. I just don't like coming home to empty rooms." He looked down at her -- down the loose open collar of her dress, she realized. "Why are you wearing underwear?"

"So the lieutenant in the transporter room didn't enjoy the show." She pulled her fingers free and stood, backing a few steps. The short grass cold under her bare feet, she unhooked the bra through the front of her dress, drew the strap out of her sleeve to remove her right arm, repeated it on the left side, and slipped the lacy item out her left sleeve, tossing it to the blanket. Raising her arms, she crossed them behind her head and tugged sleeves, slowly lifting the dress over her head. She balled it up and tossed it down with the bra.

He watched her stand in the moonlight, five months pregnant and showing it -- no mistaking that bulge any more for anything else, especially on her small frame, especially as she seemed doomed to carry Yves front and center. She wasn't huge yet but she was starting to feel that way, and she had five more months to go.

"I'm feeling neglected," he said, feeling anything but.

"You didn't tell me you felt neglected." She wriggled out of her panties. "And you wake up every night when I come in."

"Usually when you're providing the best views, too. But I miss the long conversations."

She dropped to her knees on the blanket facing him. "Jean-Fish, we don't talk that much."

"No. But we have long conversations. My cygne speaks to me constantly, when we're together." He smiled, sitting still while she opened his shirt, watching her hands moving over his chest. "I love you, Deebird."

Smiling, she met his eyes. {So handsome, my fish.} Hands on his shoulders, she felt the initial blush of heart fire as they came together for a kiss.

\--------------------------

Natalia held her breath. If she didn't the dust would make her sneeze. Something moved under her elbow -- she sat still regardless. One wrong move and they'd know she was there.

On the one hand, the Raibi outnumbered her, were armed with energy weapons with range, and were faster than she was. On the other, it seemed to make them overconfident. Either that or they were being careful not to arouse too much suspicion by gathering all in one place. She'd seen no more than two of them in one spot so far. The long series of alleys and hiding places had to have a careful randomness to them -- she had to make them think she wasn't working toward a particular goal. Commander Troi's strategy -- make them think she was running scared.

Luckily, they didn't seem to have any sensing equipment. Or if they did, it wasn't discerning her biosignature as any different than the vermin creeping around in these dark corners. Perhaps the Raibi had less effective equipment than Starfleet issue tricorders. Or they knew exactly where she was, and they were playing a big game with her to find their real quarry. Who could tell with aliens? They might just be enjoying the thrill of chasing her down.

The footsteps departed -- she waited in the overturned bin for a while longer, daring to breath, stifling a sneeze. Her shins hurt. Her feet hurt. Her back started to throb -- probably popped a rib out when she dove out that window. The adrenalin rush and shock could only wipe out the pain for so long.

Who the hell had Picard pissed off to get assassins after him?

She slipped out of the bin at last and went to the nearest door. No one answered the insistent punching on the panel, and she didn't dare knock. Glancing around in the faint moonlight that barely made it down into the depths of the narrow alley, she crept along the back wall of the building, checked for a way back out to the street at the back corner of it, and did the same along the next building. She didn't flinch as a small creature scampered across her toe -- the ugly little reptiles were apparently the local equivalent of a rat, but none of them had bitten her yet, though she'd run into them in several of her hiding places.

He'd better not mention a toothbrush to her, ever again. This was the most painful, most humiliating leave she'd ever had, and it was all his fault -- and he wasn't even around to _enjoy_ it with her.

Next time she was on leave with Captain Picard around, she was bringing a phaser, a survival kit, a medkit, a subdermal comm unit, and at least two other security personnel.

And a_ lot_ of soap.

\--------------------------

Swaying, Deanna broke contact reluctantly and let him lay her down on the blanket. He leaned and kissed the inside of her thigh, just above the knee, making slow progress up her leg while she shivered in anticipation. She closed her eyes and felt the light flutter of Yves moving in her belly, even as Jean-Luc's tongue sent warm ripples of pleasure through her.

\--------------------------

Finally! Natalia dropped off the roof and landed on her feet, only barely staying upright. Her legs hurt in _so_ many ways -- maybe she had taken up endurance running, but her normal routine didn't call for jamming herself into bins and tight corners at regular intervals.

The annunciator panel on Guinan's apartment didn't seem to work, either. What was with this town? Street lights go out, and no one stays home at night. Slipping around the corner, she sat on the low balcony wall and swung her legs over, and risked a good rap on the window, looking over her shoulder to make sure no Raibi came running at the sound.

The door opened a moment later. "What are you doing here?"

Natalia shoved her backward into the dark living room. "Close the door! No time -- there's these things called Raibi after me, I caught some of them in the captain's hotel room. They're after _him_ but they're hunting me down, probably because he went back to the ship and they can't find him -- "

"Hold on a minute, Lieutenant. You said the Raibi?"

"That's what the Lieutenant-Commander in charge of the security team that responded to my hail said they were. I should've known those dumb twits would muff the investigation! They were too busy writing it off as a simple mugging!" Natalia searched the slouchy chair she'd been sitting in eons ago with her hands. "Can't you turn on the lights? I've been on the run for the last two hours at least -- I lost my comm badge! I've got to find it!"

"You didn't have the badge when you came here."

Natalia leaped up and contained a long, throat-stinging scream before it made it past her lips. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, provided mostly by the moons. Guinan was apparently wearing black, and if not for the voice, would be a terrifying shadow to confront. Her braids reminded Natalia of an octopus.

There was only one other place she could think of that badge could've been brushed off. They didn't detach easily; they weren't supposed to. That Tschaikolovsky guy had bumped into her at the medical center. Had to be intentional, now that she thought about it.

"What about the Raibi?" she whispered. "And what happened to the power?"

"No idea about the power -- there seems to be a blackout. First time it's happened since I moved here. As for the Raibi, they're not supposed to be here. I wondered about that -- I've been uneasy all day. Tell me about this security team -- how many people, and what did they look like?"

"What does that have to do with anything, and who the hell cares? I _have _to get in touch with my ship! I have to get my beat-up butt to sickbay after I warn the captain that -- "

"Natalia, settle down. Sit, and I'll get my first aid kit." She moved out of the room, sure of her way in the dark. When she returned, she shoved Natalia backward into the chair. The twinge in her back made her gasp. "I told you settle down. You said they're after you. So why are you still alive?"

"I don't know. Maybe they figure I'll lead them to him, if I'm panicked. Or they want to catch me alive and get information out of me. Ow!" Gritting her teeth, Natalia endured Guinan removing her boots and the remnants of her pants from her shins and calves. Guinan tended her with a sure hand by the glow of a palm beacon. Hell, she was Picard's friend -- she probably had lots of practice! Natalia pointed out the twinge that had become a throbbing ache, though it was dubious how much effect the small regenerator would have.

"The Raibi aren't currently known to the Federation," Guinan said at last, closing the medkit and standing up. "They probably won't be for a long time. Tell me about this security officer who knew what they were."

"There were four security officers, and two med techs. The head guy's name was Tchaikolovsky, blue eyes, killer smile. Tall. I didn't pay much attention to his friends, they hung back and scanned the alley. The med techs -- one of them was Bajoran, the other looked human, auburn hair, and both female. When they got the captain awake they wanted to take him to the medical center, and he didn't want to but I blackmailed him into it -- they beamed us over and I waited for him for a couple hours. They must've went over him pretty thoroughly. The Tchaikolovsky guy brought back his comm badge and pips and a report -- I dropped the padd in my room. When we were going back to the hotel after we left here, Commander Troi hailed us and told the captain something urgent had come up, and he beamed up. And when I got to the hotel, these Raibi had ciphered the lock on his room, and I saw shadows -- I figured he'd brought Deanna back down with him or something, but couldn't relax until I knew all was well so I tried the annunciator. And then the Raibi came out and I ran through my room out the window into the awning -- I've been running and hiding ever since."

Guinan didn't express any surprise. "Come on, let's get you out of that uniform. And change that hair -- or do you prefer a hat? We'll need to disguise your odor, too, they're probably tracking you by smell. We're going to take a walk over to the medical center."

"What? Are you crazy? We've got to get to a comm unit and -- "

"There's more to this than meets the eye and I think this blackout has something to do with it. How many Raibi have you seen so far?"

"It's hard to tell. I've only seen a couple in any one place. . . there are at least four of them. There were two in the hotel room and two on the street outside."

Guinan pulled her further into the apartment. "We're going to figure this out, Natalia. Don't worry about the captain, he can take care of himself."

\--------------------------

"You could scream if you wanted to, you know," he murmured, fondling her left nipple with his mouth. "No one out here to hear you."

"I've never been a screamer. Oh. . . don't -- stop -- oh, JEAN-LUC!"

"What was that, cygne? I can't hear you, someone's screaming. . . ."

\--------------------------

Natalia stared at the dark building. "What do you mean, this isn't the medical center?"

"You told me they beamed you in. Was it a relay beaming? Did you materialize in a transporter room in between or did you go straight to the center?"

"It was a direct beam -- I hate this stupid hat!" Natalia shoved it up off her forehead again. It covered her hair, but it kept falling over without the volume of braids that Guinan probably held her hats up with.

"Hm. Anything unusual about the transporter beam?"

"What could be unusual about a transporter beam?"

"Keep it down, Natalia. Relax." Guinan tucked her hands into her sleeves. Both of them wore dark blue tunics and immense flat hats. "Think about this. You said they were Starfleet but this isn't a Starfleet building. The Raibi don't belong here, the officers knew who the Raibi were and dealt with them, then they helped your captain out -- he walked out looking fine, didn't he? They may not be who they seemed to be but they're on our side. The Raibi aren't. The power's off -- let's try the Starfleet base now, they'll have backup power."

"All right, but I'll bet you the Raibi have it staked out already."

\--------------------------

His lips touched her collar bone, then her throat. The slight breeze felt cold on her damp skin, but his body heat kept her from feeling the chill.

"Deanna," he whispered as his mouth descended on hers. Another slow thrust -- so controlled, yet so passionate. So intent on pleasuring her as long as possible. She slid her hands down his back, savoring this while she was able -- Yves wouldn't be a mere bulge much longer.

In fact, she felt another flutter, this time a mental one. Strange -- it was too early for Yves to manifest that much of a presence, yet there it was. Well, he was a Picard, after all. She should know by now to expect the unexpected.

Abandoning rational thought, she returned her husband's kiss and immersed herself in heart fire.

\--------------------------

"Just walk," Guinan murmured. "Ignore them."

They kept their heads down, walking down the center of the street to avoid bumping into anything in the shadows of buildings. Traffic was so minimal they'd only seen one ground car, and avoided it easily. Guinan hummed something off-key. The two Raibi on the corner stared at them, but didn't seem inclined to do anything. It was an ungodly time of morning, local time, and the mists had dissipated for some reason. On Earth they would be thicker than ever. One of the moons had set, but the remaining two continued to glow pink low in the sky.

As they rounded the corner, Natalia looked up the hill at what was supposed to be the local Starfleet headquarters. Dark. Someone was sure thorough.

"Lieutenant."

That was the security jerk's voice! Quiet son of a gun -- he'd crept up behind them. She turned slowly, noticing that the guy's three companions had taken out the Raibi on the corner somehow; they stood over the prone creatures, and one of them gave the lieutenant-commander a thumbs up gesture.

"There's no need for further concern," Tchaikolovsky said, holding out a hand. "In fact, you shouldn't report this to anyone, least of all the captain."

"The hell I shouldn't! You're heading straight for the nearest brig for impersonating -- "

"Nat, don't." The pleading caught her off guard. So did the familiar use of a nickname. "Guinan already told you, probably -- "

"You're in on this?" Natalia whirled on the woman, who backed away warily.

Guinan didn't look at her, staring instead at the newcomer. "No. But I know when there's a temporal disturbance. You look familiar to me, Commander. You wouldn't happen to be related to anyone I know, would you?"

The man grinned, reminding Natalia again of -- "Wait a second, temporal disturbance? You're from the. . . no, the past is too impossible. The future? Isn't there some law against tampering -- "

"The Raibi were sent back to this time from ours for reasons you've probably already guessed," the man said. "We're here to handle the difficulty. Thanks for keeping them busy so long, it gave us the opportunity to round them all up. You did a good job of hiding your captain, too, we haven't seen him all night."

"If you don't answer a few questions _right now_ I'm going to run off and find a way to send a message to the _Enterprise_ to let Captain Picard know he ought to beam right down and -- "

"Beam down?" the man blurted. "The ship is_ here_? It wasn't supposed to -- dammit! Lora!" His bellowing got the attention of two of his comrades, who came jogging over and stood a few meters away in the middle of the three-way intersection.

"She can't hear you, you know. Communicators are generally more effective than just shouting at the sky," one man pointed out -- Natalia stared at him. That was the captain's voice! Almost, that is, there was a quality to it -- but the tone, the inflection, even the wry humor, that was --

"Yves?" It got the man's attention -- his head snapped around. Like the others, he wore current Starfleet standard issue, with an ensign's pips.

"Go!" the man who was formerly Tchaikolovsky shouted. "Now! She figured it out -- damn it, if Deanna senses you're here and recognizes -- "

"Could she do that? I mean, she's only barely fifth month," Natalia said calmly. "She said he was only starting to register as a presence."

"Told you she was quick," the one who sounded like a Picard said, chuckling. "Even now -- "

"Shut up!"

"You don't have to shout, Mr. Riker," Natalia said. "What is it with you Rikers anyway that you think you have to be loud to get people's attention?" The stunned expression, followed by the amused appreciative smile, clinched it. Had to be a Riker. He lost his turn of good humor almost immediately, however.

"We can't leave anyway," Yves said, meandering a few steps closer. "We have two Raibi left to apprehend. Too bad we had to keep up appearances in the alley, they honestly thought he was dead until we revived him. And if the _Enterprise_ is here you know our own ship is long gone until it leaves again."

"If the ship's gone where did you beam the Raibi?" Natalia asked.

"Never mind that," Riker growled. He crossed his arms and glowered at his companions. "This whole mission is shot to hell -- we're contaminating the timeline further every second Nat's with us! Let's get going already and find the last two."

"I can help," Natalia said. "They were chasing me. Guinan said they were tracking me by scent, most likely. Though why a bunch of guys from the future would have to resort to that, I'm not sure. . . they aren't too bright, are they?"

"No, but they're expendable so far as. . . their employers are concerned," Yves said, coming closer still. "And they can master the use of simple tools for specific purposes. I'm afraid we fabricated some of the details of the story they supposedly -- "

"Shut up," Riker exclaimed. "Just keep your mind on the mission -- "

"Don't you tell me what to do! The omega directive was supposed to keep the ship tied up, you said -- what a lot of headache for nothing that was! All the trouble we went through just handling the damn molecule and all it did was bring the ship back here sooner! Nice going, hotshot!"

"Hey, guys, can we get back to what we're supposed to be doing?" the third person said. Natalia couldn't think of anyone that person might be like. Of course, they couldn't all be kids of people she knew, could they? He looked older than the other two, with reddish-brown hair and dark eyes -- so far as she could tell in the moonlight. "Beckwith's already beamed out with the two we just caught. Why don't we let Co -- Lieutenant Greenman help us and be done with it, if you're so concerned about minimizing contact?"

Guinan cleared her throat, and all four of them turned to look at her. "She's already helped you out -- just go your way and let us go ours, all right? And turn the power back on."

"Sorry, that was the Raibi's doing -- their employers trained a couple of them to blow out just the right spot in the power plant," Yves said.

Natalia groaned and pulled off the ridiculous hat irritably, running her fingers through her hair. She glared when she saw Yves watching her with an amused grin. "Don't laugh at my hat hair, at least I won't be bald by the time I'm forty!"

Riker snorted. "Sounds like we never left the ship. Oh -- now I'm doing it! The Raibi? Now? Did anyone think to get the tricorder from Beckwith before he beamed out?"

"Got it." The third man held up a smaller version of a familiar device. "But it won't do us much good, you know that."

"That's the trouble with low-tech quarry with high-tech gear. The quickest way is to bait them out, like Nits said -- sorry. I _hate_ temporal anomalies." Yves put a hand to his forehead, as if reassuring himself he still had all that wavy black hair. "They give me headaches."

Natalia pulled the tunic over her head and straightened the uniform she still wore underneath it, and realized the three men were all staring at her. "What's the matter, never seen a lieutenant before?" She handed the hat and tunic to Guinan. The woman's expression was unreadable in the dim light -- not that it would have been any more readable by day, anyway.

"You sure you want to do this?" she asked quietly. "Could be fatal."

"Well, temporal stuff is dicey. Got just enough lecturing at the Academy to understand that much. The sooner they get back, the less they ruin -- and if we don't get rid of the rest of the Raibi before the captain beams down again in the morning, we're going to have more trouble." She held out a hand toward Riker. "You've got my communicator. Cough it up."

He chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Can't. You can't contact the ship, can't let anyone know we're here -- "

"Look, junior, you either cough up the communicator and trust me or you can just go sniff out your smelly friends by yourself. I'm not going out there without at least the option of an emergency beamout. I'll tell the captain I got myself in a bar fight or something if I have to resort to it. You aren't anyone I'm responsible to, so don't go telling me what I can and can't do. Why the heck did you have to swipe it, anyway? And what is your first name?"

She was the center of attention for a few minutes of consideration all the way around. Finally Riker took the comm badge off his own uniform and tossed it to her. "That's yours. Call me John. Sorry, I only borrowed it. I couldn't risk you contacting the base for any reason relating to the incident. We were only able to intercept comm traffic for a short duration. Don't suppose I could get you to voluntarily submit to a memory wipe when we're done?"

"Forget you! I've got betting pools to set up! There's credits to be made off the color of Yves' eyes!" She slapped the badge on and grinned at Guinan. "Thanks for the use of the saucer section and the shirt. I've got some baiting to do. See you in the morning."

\--------------------------

Deanna woke, and for a disoriented moment thought she was back on Zanzibar -- bizarre. She hadn't thought about that in months. Must be the fact that she was wrapped in blankets with cold air in her nostrils, and Jean-Luc was wrapped around her and breathing in her ear.

For once, she'd awakened while he was sleeping hard. She took stock of their surroundings, noting that though it was dark the light of dawn was creeping up on the horizon. The sensor net hadn't been tripped. She couldn't sense anyone close -- but as she reached outward, she could 'hear' the murmurings of emotions. The city wasn't that far away so she searched for Natalia's familiar pattern. Yves still registered as a definite presence, though a muted one.

Her tensing woke him up. "What?" he mumbled, sitting up.

"Jean-Luc, something's wrong. I should have paid attention last night -- I was so focused on you that it didn't -- Natalia's in trouble. She's excited and afraid and anxious -- and exhausted. And Guinan. . . ." Deanna sat up and fell silent for a few moments. "She's not afraid, but she's worried. Something's afoot."

"Guinan said she'd been feeling uneasy about something, as if there'd been a temporal disturbance. She didn't know details. Let's go see what's going on. Nat better not be in the middle of it." He was on his feet in a second, and helped her up with his usual overcautious gentleness. Rather than complain about it, she let him and helped him pick up their scattered belongings, slipping into her shoes. Since they'd put their clothes back on for warmth that wasn't a concern.

"Straight to quarters, please," she said, putting a hand to her head. Her hair was doing its usual imitation of a supernova. "I think we should confront this in uniform."

"That girl better not have gotten herself hurt," he grumbled, pulling his communicator from a shirt pocket.

\--------------------------

"Oh, come on -- just something little. Harmless."

"You know better than to even ask, I'm sure." Yves couldn't stop smiling, though. Something amused him to no end. Natalia felt like kicking him by this time -- they'd been hiking around the streets for the past hour with no luck, and she'd gotten no answers from him. The other two, John and the unnamed man, had started a complementary search pattern that intersected with theirs every so often, and all their walking centered on the hotel, where they suspected the captain would reappear.

Early morning pedestrian traffic was minimal, but would increase after sunrise. They had to find the last two Raibi somehow.

"So you guys are here just to catch the Raibi. To take them back to your time. What's to stop whoever it is sending someone else to do the job?"

"You don't have to worry about that."

Natalia sighed and tried to keep her eyes forward. The kid -- she couldn't help thinking of him that way, even though he was obviously her age or older -- had too much going for him. She could see both his parents in his face. His father's smile and eyes, but he had a way of looking at you like he could read your --

Oh.

And he didn't even look at her, just kept plugging along up the middle of the street next to her, as he said, "Took you long enough to figure it out. You don't have to feel so embarrassed about it. Happens all the time. Most folks never even figure out I'm part Betazoid."

She laughed nervously. "It's just too _weird,_ you're not even born yet. I'm probably going to end up changing your diapers -- figures. I'd heard Starfleet was an adventure, this just goes to show there is in fact a department of understatement at work somewhere back at Command. This is just hurting my head all over the place thinking about it."

"Don't think. You should consider allowing the memory wipe. It's going to be tough keeping this from everyone -- you'll have to keep it from me, too, you know."

"Until after you get back, at which point we could sit down and talk about it over dinner?"

He looked at her finally, sidelong, staring, his steps slowing. Then he winced, in a very familiar way. "You're trying to nail down a date this far in advance? You're too old for me, you know."

She was sure her face was redder than roses. Still, she shrugged and said, "No sense in being shy about it, is there, Mr. Empath? And if I'm too old then what's with your parents?"

"Well. . . ." He grinned and shook his head. "How do you know you're available? How do you know I'd be free?"

"Did I say it would be anything but a dinner? Geeze, I had dinner with John's dad and he's all but married to that nurse. And he's too old for me. So there."

It stopped him in his tracks. "You had dinner with -- when was that?"

He was too curious. Natalia put her hands behind her back and tried not to look too smug. "What's your birthday?"

Another wince. "_You_ are just trouble."

"The girl your daddy warned you about?"

"I suppose you also want my birth weight and all that so you can really clean up in the betting pools?"

"Come on, you give a little, I'll give a little. If John's anything like his dad you need all the ammo you can find, right?"

He laughed, put his hands to his head, and paced in a small circle. "Impossible. Almost as impossible as -- we have to stop this. I can't be talking to you, Nat. It's too easy to slip."

"Why can't the tricorders pick up the Raibi?" If he wouldn't answer the interesting questions, maybe he would answer pertinent ones.

Yves resumed their forward motion and she stayed in step with him. "The people who sent them gave them devices that circumvent detection by our sensors. We can work around it, but it takes time to hunt down frequencies and such, and it takes the ship's computer -- and we can't bring the ship within sensor range. When the _Enterprise_ entered the system our ship left. I don't have to guess at that. The usual transports and such wouldn't detect a cloaked ship, but a ship of the line you can't take chances with."

Natalia glanced around as they reached another corner. The dawn was about to break; light gathered over the cityscape ahead of them. "We're almost back at the hotel. The Raibi communicate somehow, don't they? These last two must be waiting for the captain himself. How many were there?"

"More than you think. They're actually telepathic, but only with themselves -- they rely on the usual senses with other species. We were catching them as you brought them out in the open. They weren't smart enough to follow him to Guinan's -- they're trained to do the deed a specific way, either jump him in a street or wait in his room. Either way, they were supposed to make it look like a malfunction of his heart and hide him until it was impossible to resuscitate him. The element of surprise was the key to it all."

"And the goal was to take him out before he could accomplish something in the future. Are they also after Deanna? And you?"

He turned away from her too abruptly. "The Raibi aren't bright. They've been modified to be programmable, via an implant in their brains. They can point and shoot. They can use a neural paralyzer on someone in such a way that an artificial heart can appear to malfunction for no apparent reason. You interfered, so you became a target -- and once they have a target they'll pursue it to the last man."

"So if you're here with me would you be construed as interfering and therefore a target? Why didn't they go after you and your friends?"

"We didn't confront them in the primary target area, the hotel room. We knew when and where the actual confrontation would occur and were closing on the position when you showed up. You were an unexpected complication. So was the _Enterprise_ showing up." He grinned, looking too much like his father. "Probably should have guessed Maman would find a way around the computer lockouts."

"Maybe we should -- what's wrong?"

He stood looking at nothing for a moment, as if listening to some inner voice. "Nothing. Yet." And then his communicator twittered. "Picard here."

"Yves, we've seen them -- moving your direction."

"John, there's a complication -- I think my parents just beamed down." Yves looked at Natalia. "You can't give up any information, Nat. You can't tell them a word about us. They've got to believe we were just personnel from the local HQ."

"I know, already. But the Raibi -- quick, weaknesses, anything to give me the upper hand. A phaser on heavy stun would be even better than a weakness."

"Stun won't do it. You couldn't leave any evidence. You'd have to vaporize them. That would put you in front of a board of inquiry, because you'd have to explain why -- you'd have to -- merde, there's no time for this. John, I'll take care of it. Picard out." He gripped Natalia's shoulder. "Go to them. Keep them in front of the hotel, I'll take up a position and pick off the Raibi the instant they make their appearance. Can you keep secrets?"

The nervous quivering in her gut wasn't easy to put down. "Yes. I just hope I don't screw it up with the Raibi."

He smiled -- she thought Riker's smile packed a wallop, this one nearly curled her toes -- and shocked her by kissing her on the cheek. "You won't. The future is what you make it, Natty, remember that. And when you do get around to that dinner date -- wear the green dress. Trust me on that one."

"But -- "

"No questions. See you in. . . ." He stopped a few running steps away, half-turning, and thought for a second, then winked at her. "Four months, three weeks, and three days. And don't drop me this time."

She watched him race down an alley and disappear. "Don't drop -- crap!"

And then she heard Deanna call her name, in the first officer's tone of voice, and she ran. "Commander! Captain! Good morning!"

\--------------------------

Deanna watched the lieutenant running up to them and wondered if they'd pushed her too far too fast. Suddenly Nat reminded her of Wesley when he was fifteen, too big-eyed and eager. She skidded a little as she stopped. Glancing up at the front of the hotel -- she expected something, Deanna realized, following the girl's look and noticing that there were broken bits of metal at regular intervals along the front of the building. What did this mean?

"What's going on? Where have you been?"

"I know, I should've been in bed," Natalia blurted, looking properly chagrined. And tired, and like she'd been dragged through the streets behind stampeding horses. Her uniform was torn here and there, and from the knees down completely shot. "Sir, I'm sorry, but I did come back here -- I met someone and we went out, and then there were these guys who for some reason came after us and I ran. And then we ran into some other guys who weren't so bad, and then it got to be kinda fun, and we were walking and talking and then I looked up and the sun was rising, so I headed back here."

She was telling the truth, more or less. Deanna met her gaze and she didn't flinch from it, nor did Deanna sense any of the usual signs of dishonesty. But there was more, much more -- Nat was nervous as a cadet facing her first CO. "Who was that man you were talking to, who ran down that side street?"

Natalia looked over her shoulder. "Oh -- that was just one of the guys. He had to get back to his place, he has duty later today. I'm supposed to meet him for dinner later."

Jean-Luc's frustration abated; he sighed, dropping his gaze and losing some of his intensity. "Natalia, are you sure everything's all right? When I saw you last, you were very upset."

"I'm fine. I'm sorry I was so out of sorts," she replied, settling somewhat. "I just needed something to take my mind off it for a while -- I feel much better. It scared me, seeing you like that, thinking that I'd never have a chance. . . that I'd never get to tell you how much I've appreciated the time you've spent with me. I would've missed you, a lot, and I'm glad you made it through all right. Glad it was just a practice run -- as long as it's that and not the real thing, I'll forgive you for scaring me."

"What happened to your uniform?" The relief Jean-Luc felt was at least visible in his eyes and audible in his tone. Nat understood and smiled, and just like that all was well. Deanna relaxed and smiled with them.

Then Natalia's eyes shifted to some point over their shoulders and got big. Before Deanna could follow the look Natalia lunged forward and shoved both of them into the wall.

"What the -- " Deanna blurted.

"They're back," Natalia cried, whirling about.

A phaser shot struck the building nearby as a large hairy humanoid leaped at Natalia. Deanna saw a device in its hand as it reached for the lieutenant. Then, alarmingly, Natalia's arms shot out, her body shook, and she fell. She convulsed for a few seconds and lay still.

The pain had been brief but intense -- Natalia had lost consciousness almost immediately, thank goodness. Her head aching from the jolt she'd sensed, Deanna leaped to the defense, but Jean-Luc grabbed her by the arms and held her back. Another phaser bolt caught the alien. Jean-Luc held her against his chest as the alien disappeared in a flare of dissipating particles.

"Too close for comfort," he blurted, moving around Deanna to drop to one knee at Nat's side. Deanna stared, horrified, knowing that as he checked for vital signs he would find none. At least there was hope -- if they got her to sickbay she could be resuscitated.

His hand was midway to his comm badge when running footsteps and a frustrated exclamation interrupted. "Captain!" A security officer, lieutenant-commander, tall, blue-eyed, and hauntingly familiar, raced up and dropped to a knee on the other side of the fallen lieutenant. "I'm sorry -- "

"Sorry doesn't cut it! You were obviously aware something was -- we don't have time for this -- "

"Captain, she'll be all right if we get her to the -- "

"She's going to our sickbay," Jean-Luc snapped. "Back off. Picard to -- "

"WAIT!"

Deanna backed along the sidewalk, sidling to stand behind Jean-Luc, who had frozen at the sound of what sounded like his own voice. The dawn broke, the first rays of the pale yellow sun streaking the street and falling on a young man running across from the alley. The one Nat had been talking to. He didn't slow his stride as he brought up a weapon and fired over their heads. A squeal cut short -- Deanna glanced up to see a body vaporize in midair, becoming for an instant a glowing green outline of a hairy humanoid.

"Last one," the man exclaimed, coming to a halt. Another security officer, but an ensign. And too familiar to be anyone but --

"Yves," Deanna said wonderingly.

He turned from his disgruntled companion and looked her in the eye, a wave of warmth coming across with his smile. {Don't ask questions. You know.}

Jean-Luc stared a moment, then snapped back to the crisis at hand. He began gathering Natalia's limbs to pick her up -- she was like a big doll, limp and pale, not even breathing. Deanna's heart stuck in her throat. Yves took Nat from Jean-Luc before he could finish lifting. "You can't help her -- this isn't something your facilities can counter. Let me take her."

"This isn't -- "

"Shut up, John!" Yves had his father's manner, and the way the other man raised his head was so comically Riker that she had to be right -- he had to be Will's son, with blond hair. A quirk of genetics, because Bell's blond hair wasn't natural -- or had John's mother been someone different?

Seconds later, the two men and Natalia vanished in a transporter beam, though neither had hailed anyone to initiate it. The hotel entrance opened and a few alarmed faces peered around the corner at them. Deanna turned to Jean-Luc, who stood frozen in place, staring at where Yves had been. Wearing one of his masks -- trying not to show the fear. She took his hand.

"She'll be all right," Deanna murmured. "He's a Picard, and he cares for her a great deal -- he'll make it so."

She sensed the shift -- the slow unwinding of shock and grief over Natalia, into the amazement at the ramifications of what they'd just seen. He put his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, oblivious to the fact that they were in public and people were spilling out of the hotel onto the sidewalk, talking excitedly about phaser fire in the streets.

Her own numbness faded. But she couldn't feel the fear -- all she could feel was joy, the certainty that everything would be as it should be when all was said and done. That her husband was alive, Natalia would be fine, and her son would be beautiful. The details didn't matter.

Jean-Luc recovered enough to back off and hold her by the shoulders. "You're all right?"

"Yes. How did you know to pull me away and not move to my defense?"

A wry snort. "He told me to, telepathically. He was the one firing the phaser. Shocked the hell out of me -- sure you're all right?"

"Everything will be all right -- I can tell. I can sense him. They didn't go far. He has your eyes," she whispered, tears spilling. He held her again at that, sharing the joy.

A hand on her shoulder brought her down to the ground again. Guinan smiled at her, and she smiled back, pulling away from Jean-Luc and wiping her cheek with her sleeve.

"Why don't you come along to my place for breakfast? We need to talk," Guinan said.

With an audible click, the street lamp just down the street on the corner came on, glaring yellow and useless in the daylight.

\--------------------------

&lt;&lt; Natalia ran to him and leaped into his arms -- Bennett Greenman was a tall man, with laughing brown eyes just like hers, and he swung her round and set her down.

"My little gnat all grown up -- I'm proud of you, Sweetabug. You did your duty. Protected your captain."

"Dad, he's not like they say he is -- he's not all stiff and hard and official all the time. He actually talks to me! He likes me!"

Her father's beaming sent warm fuzzies skurling down her spine. "Nat, there's nothing about you to dislike. Of course he likes you."

Natalia looked around then and saw -- nothing. Weird. "Where are we?"

"You're beautiful," he murmured, touching her face. "Not much like your mother. I didn't think you would be, as you got older -- the last time I saw you you were just beginning to blossom into a woman."

"Dad -- where are we?"

"You're in security, just like your old man. I'm flattered, Nat. A lieutenant already!"

"Dad? Why aren't you answering -- "

Suddenly he receded from her, moving without moving, dwindling to a point and disappearing in the distance, and she was falling, falling &gt;&gt;

Natalia gasped, pulling in air with a loud whoop and jerking upright. A hand pushed her down on her back again. "Just relax. Be still. You're going to be fine."

The Bajoran's face swam into view through blurred vision. Intense blue eyes -- did Bajorans ever have blue eyes? Natalia blinked, fighting the overwhelming sensations -- her whole body felt like she'd been yanked through a very small opening backward. "Dad," she croaked.

"Be still." A warm hand dropped on her forehead.

"Captain -- "

"He's not here. Be still. He's fine, and you'll be fine."

It came back to her at last. "Yves?" Why couldn't she talk right? Sounded like she'd been drinking sand.

"We have to wipe your memory, Nat. I'm sorry. But we'll give you a replacement for it. Let's do it, Lora."

"Wait -- "

Whiteness.

She opened her eyes and sat up. She was on a sofa, in her room at the hotel. The back of her mouth tasted funny -- what had she been drinking? And where was --

"So you said he got mugged?" Wes came out of the bathroom combing his hair.

"Yeah, it really freaked me out. I'm sorry I puked on you. Shouldn't have had so much of that stuff, I guess."

Wes grinned. "You had fun while it lasted. At least that's what it looked like to me. How'd you hook up with those guys anyway?"

"One of them works for security over at the local HQ. We met when he responded to my yell for help." Natalia got up and stretched. She needed to change, this uniform had seen better days. Rumpled and looking like she'd dumped more than a few drinks down the front. "So you're Dr. Crusher's kid? Wow. Crazy luck, falling across your table."

"Yeah, well, I get around. Good thing for you I do, I don't think you'd have made it back to the hotel on your own. What's Captain Picard doing here, anyway?" Wes straightened the thick russet turtleneck that complimented his hair so well.

"That diplomatic conference -- oh, I was supposed to attend that thing! What time is it? I need to change into a clean uniform." She paused, taking stock. "I wonder if I could get away with sleeping in and sneaking in when it's time for his speech."

"You could take a stim, I think the hotel would have one handy. I'm sure they get plenty of guests requesting them. I'd like to go with you. It's been a long time since I've seen the old gang." Wes crossed to the window and leaned out. "Huh. Looks like they're replacing an awning. Wonder what was wrong with the old one? Say -- is Commander Riker still on board?"

"You really _are_ out of touch," Natalia exclaimed. "He got his own command before I reported for duty. I've met him though, at the captain's wedding and a few times since. He's really something."

Wes stared at her in surprise. "Wedding?"

"Sure. He married Commander Troi."

His eyes bugged out. "You're kidding me! No way! Now I've got to go with you!"

Natalia checked the chrono near the bed. The conference was probably under way. Oh nine hundred fourteen, already! She tapped her badge. "Greenman to Captain Picard."

After a moment's hesitation, the reply came. "Lieutenant -- good morning. How are you?"

An odd question. He also sounded way too happy to hear from her. Natalia frowned, then shrugged it off. He must've got some last night. "A little hung over I guess, but nothing I can't handle -- you never gave me details of how to get into the conference. And there's someone else who wants to come -- a mutual friend, I guess you could call him."

"Hi, Captain," Wes said. "I should let you know up front, I only picked her up in the strictest sense -- she was a little drunk and disorderly. I brought her back to her hotel. She looks a lot better now that she's had a nap."

A long pause. Natalia almost spoke again but didn't know what to make of this. The captain should greet an old friend, shouldn't he? Or chew her out for poor behavior? When he finally did speak, it sounded strained, as if he were trying not to laugh.

"I see. Well, Wes, it's about time you showed up. You realize your mother will be very upset that you've managed to be here, and not anywhere near her current posting. Why don't both of you come along for brunch? Deanna and I happen to be in the vicinity."

"Are you at Guinan's?" Natalia asked. "Again? Really, Captain, if Deanna wasn't with you -- "

"Lieutenant!" His bark had only a few teeth in it. She shared a grin with Wes. Clearing his throat, the captain said, "Why don't you go ahead and bring him along, and we'll talk about this uncharacteristic binge of yours before it becomes a habit?"

\--------------------------

When the two arrived, Deanna smiled serenely and kept up the appearance of pleasant surprise. The innocuous chatter that took up the better part of half an hour confirmed what they'd guessed -- Nat's memory had been wiped, and Wes knew exactly how to feed information that solidified the replacement memories she'd been given. And it served the dual function of letting the rest of them know what Nat had supposedly been up to the previous night.

When Nat went to the bathroom, however, Wes sobered and came across the room from the window, sliding his empty plate across the counter to Guinan, who stood in the small kitchen area. "They weren't going to take chances of failing. That jolt she took would have killed you just as quickly," he mumbled, turning to Jean-Luc. "It nearly did irreparable damage to her nervous system, even by more advanced standards."

"So are you from the present, the future, or some other -- "

"That doesn't matter, Captain. I'm here to make sure she hasn't suffered any ill effects from the memory wipe and finish solidifying the replacement memories."

"Can you at least tell me what exactly happened last night?" Jean-Luc was as curious as Deanna. The state of Natalia's uniform that morning hadn't been promising.

"She took a beating running from two dozen assassins. From what we've pieced together, she'd gone to the hotel and surprised two of them in your room, and they turned their attention to her. Luckily they aren't very adaptable and were operating on what you could call contingency subroutines. She leaped out a two story window into the awning, cracked a rib, and ran in the darkness -- they were programmed to cut off all power to prevent Starfleet security from leaving the barracks. No power, no comm traffic, no doors. Which actually served our purposes well. There would have been losses, if others had been involved. If she hadn't drawn the assassins out they would have stayed in hiding and killed you any way they could as a last resort. Their employers wanted it to appear to be an accident, but they wanted you dead by any means necessary."

Guinan leaned on the counter. "It's too bad she can't remember it. She felt a lot of anguish about the mugging."

Wes smiled sadly. "I know. I was there. Yves said she'd had the ground pretty much knocked out from under her. You could tell from the look on her face she was blaming herself already. But, we've taken that into consideration. She'll remember that after she found out the captain was still alive, the two aliens led us all a chase and she apprehended one of them herself. Crisis over, and no long runs down dark alleys bumping into things."

Deanna bumped Jean-Luc with her elbow. "You don't have to feel guilty about it. How were you supposed to know?"

He smiled at her over the rim of his cup. Both of them stood near the counter as well, with him leaning against the wall. "Damned empath." He sipped coffee, then set down the cup.

"Indeed. Her premature arrival and Nat's presence were the two unforeseen circumstances -- otherwise it would have begun and ended in that alley. Your memory would have been wiped on the spot, after the Raibi were convinced of your death. Except Nat was there and we had to work around her."

Jean-Luc laughed curtly. "That was Deanna's fault, too. She suggested Nat come along with me in the first place."

"Stop that," Deanna exclaimed, scowling. Wes' amused surprise irritated her. He held up both hands to fend off her ire.

"I'm not laughing at you. I just should've guessed it. You've got a way of making things turn out not quite the way anyone would expect them to," he said, resembling Beverly more than Jack for once in the way he grinned.

"You can say that again," Jean-Luc muttered. He didn't stop grinning when Deanna glared at him. "In most cases for the better."

It did away with most of her irritation. Guinan chuckled at them, propping her elbow on the counter and putting her chin in her hand. "I wonder how many other people would see it that way. I'm curious about the reactions of certain individuals, myself."

Jean-Luc sighed, and for once Deanna agreed wholeheartedly that evasion was a good thing. "Wonder what I did to warrant such a great effort to get rid of me?"

"Doesn't matter," Wes said. "The future hasn't been written so far as you're concerned. You could still change your mind when the occasion presents itself and this will never have happened. You should forget this, and commit the version we give Nat to memory. Reality is what you believe it is."

Deanna smiled at her husband. "Yes. We know."

Nat came out of the hall humming. She stopped in the doorway, staring at them. "Hey -- last night you guys were talking about Guinan maybe being the hostess in the ship's lounge? Is that going to happen?"

Guinan gave the lieutenant one of her enigmatic, pleased smiles. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering -- 'cause if you are, you should know I've got dibs on chief babysitter."

Jean-Luc sniffed in mock-indignation, but Deanna didn't bother hiding a grin. "Are you going to arm-wrestle Mama Malia for it?"

"She's got Kenny to keep her busy. I can devote my full attention to the job." With amusing seriousness, Natalia marched to one of the chairs and dropped into it, and was promptly swallowed in green cushion. "Can I have one of these?"

"I thought -- " Jean-Luc stopped himself short. He'd been doing that, probably unsure of what she would and wouldn't remember the way he did. "Isn't your cabin a little small for it?"

"Hey, the captain's kid's chief babysitter has to get an upgrade in quarters, right? Though having a screaming baby in for a visit would be great revenge for Kasey's stupid folk songs at stupid hours of the morning." She fought her way upright and peered at them around a bulge of the chair. "He's not going to be telepathic right away, is he?"

"Betazoids don't generally gain their ability until their teens," Deanna said. "I've been wondering. . . how are things running in the betting pools these days?"

"There's only two, the date of birth and the gender. I've already got one of them nailed." She disappeared back into the depths of the chair. "I think I'll start one about the color of his eyes."

Wes hesitated, very obviously, his eyes sliding from Guinan to Deanna. "Isn't that a bit of a sure thing? Betazoid eyes tend to come in one color."

"Naw. I bet he has his dad's eyes."

"Is that a hunch?" Deanna asked, trying to sense if there were anything more to this than her good humor and mischief.

Natalia pulled herself out of the chair, ending up on her knees then standing. "Wow. My knee hurts. Wonder why? Sure, it's a hunch. Is there any of that weedle juice left?"

"That's eidleh juice, and yes, there is," Guinan said calmly.

Deanna met Wes' gaze while Natalia joined Guinan in the kitchen. He smiled reassuringly and nodded, mouthing words he couldn't say. 'Your son's fault.'

Jean-Luc sighed. {Not even out of the womb and he's causing trouble.}

{Technically that's not so.} Deanna sidled closer and leaned against him, rubbing her belly. {I _hate_ temporal anomalies. They give me headaches.}

"Let's go see," Guinan said, to something Natalia said that Deanna hadn't heard. The El-Aurian shot a quick smile at Jean-Luc. "Natalia's going to help me pack instead of attending your conference. Do you mind?"

"I figure there's got to be a recording of it I can listen to later, right?" Nat put in quickly.

"I don't mind at all. I wasn't looking forward to having to keep her out of trouble, anyway."

Nat turned to Guinan. "Is he always like that?"

"Don't ask rhetorical questions." Guinan led her from the room. "Say, when you were a kid, did you jump on your bed?"

Natalia laughed. "Are you kidding? Gave myself a concussion once outdoing my friend Rachel -- Mom left the dent in the ceiling to remind me not to do it again. Why'd you ask?"

Guinan's voice trailed back to them as the two rounded the corner into the hall. "I can just tell that about someone, that's all. . . ."

Jean-Luc sighed wearily. "I don't know if having Guinan on board will be a blessing or a curse. What are you laughing at?"

"Just. . . nothing, sir," Wes said. He smiled and propped an elbow on the counter. "The traveler told you once to encourage me. I'd do the same about Natalia but I think that's a bit superfluous at this point."

Deanna winced a bit. "Now you've got him curious and thinking too much. You shouldn't tease like that, Wesley."

"Sorry. I'd suggest a memory wipe for the two of you, you know. But you weren't in the thick of things. You can handle it." Wes picked up the glass he'd left half full on the counter and studied the ruby-red contents. "John wanted to apologize about the omega directive. It was his idea, he wanted to be sure the _Enterprise_ and Deanna were kept out of this completely."

"That was intentional?" Jean-Luc exclaimed, suddenly on alert and angry. "The danger -- "

"I know," Wes said softly. "We all knew. But given what was at stake -- you and Deanna and Yves, and Natalia, and Guinan. . . . There were too many intersections of destinies that should not happen, too many things affected. The vengeance the Raibi were sent to exact would have had too many repercussions. I can't explain it to you. We knew Starfleet would neutralize the omega threat -- another ship was to rendezvous fifteen hours after the _Enterprise_ was shut down, and that captain would contact Command. The intent was to minimize contact -- once Deanna sensed you were in danger we knew she would turn the ship around and -- wait. What are you. . . you didn't sense it?"

The muddle her stomach was making of breakfast wouldn't settle. "I don't have that kind of range, Wesley." She put a hand on Jean-Luc's shoulder to steady him before he made another angry outburst. "I never have."

"But the bond. . . Yves must have meant -- but I suppose you wouldn't necessarily have developed it this early. . . . Huh." Wes smirked and smoothed a stray lock of hair back from his forehead. "Well. Can't tell them about that, they went through hell to arrange that particular element of the plan." Then he looked at them, suddenly realizing what could be inferred. "Maybe I _should_ take you in for a memory wipe."

"I don't think that's necessary," Deanna said. "Maybe you should quietly leave before you give anything else away, though. It's good to see you -- don't be gone so long. And visit your mother? I suppose in some time frame you've already met Tom?"

"Yeah, he's a good guy. And -- ugh." He grimaced, reminding her of a much-younger Wesley of years gone by. "You're right, I need to go. Too easy to spoil things right now. I've got too many memories colliding and it's getting tough for me to keep it all straight. Next time I'll be able to prepare for meeting everyone, so I won't give anything away. This wasn't the plan, you know. I wasn't supposed to see you this time."

Deanna accepted a hug from him, and Jean-Luc shook his hand, setting aside anger. "I'm glad we did get to see you," he said. "Don't wait too long to visit again."

"Oh, I won't. Took you long enough to come up with someone I could play with." Wes grinned at Jean-Luc, with a hint of slyness. "Look out for Nat. She'll be a lot better officer than I would've been. And the next time you see me, I won't know a thing about any of this. Don't worry about the details, just don't say anything about this to me -- try to forget about it as much as possible."

He left without a word to Guinan or Nat. Deanna took advantage of the moment to lean on Jean-Luc and collect a hug. They stood with his arms around her for a bit, listening to the distant murmur of conversation between their friends.

"Petite mere," he murmured. "Feeling all right?"

Deanna smiled and rubbed her cheek along the shoulder of his uniform. "The future looks very bright from where I stand, Jean-Fish. It would be so nice not to suffer the separations so much."

His mood turned reflective. "Nice to know the crowd he'll be running in. That was Riker's son, I'm sure of it, and he knows Wes. He obviously knows Nat well."

"Don't get too attached to that future. You know it could change. I changed things, figuring out a way out of omega doorstop mode."

"Yes, you -- doorstop?"

Deanna bopped her forehead on his shoulder, wincing. "Never mind."

Natalia's voice came down the hall, strident and puzzled. "No, thanks. I don't think it would fit me and it's. . . the wrong shade. I don't understand it, I hate green. Why do I suddenly feel like trying on the first green dress I see?"

A pause. "I don't know," came Guinan's reply. "Did last night's binge at the bar include letting someone hypnotize you?"

Groaning, Deanna hit Jean-Luc's arm lightly with a fist. "I wonder what else _your_ son planted in her head?"

"Don't know. I have the feeling I have a lot of lecturing ahead of me, however."

"At least it's nothing harmful, so far," Deanna said with a sigh.

Running footsteps, and Nat stood in the hall door, looking confused. "Sir, do you like Italian food?"

"I've never been fond of it, no," Jean-Luc replied. "Why?"

Natalia frowned. "I don't know. Just thought you did, for some reason. Huh." She went down the hall again.

Deanna started to giggle. "He's your son, all right. Already got a date with a girl and he's not even finished gestating. Jean-Luc, you can't be serious -- you're happy? Even if he's resorting to subliminal hinting?"

"Well, he had to have asked her first -- remember, she said she was having dinner with him later?"

She pushed her face into the front of his uniform to stifle laughter. {How do you know it wasn't her idea?}

"It probably was -- but from what she told me before, she turned down a date with John Riker -- oh, Dee, not the Betazoid Death Glare. . . ."


End file.
